


Lilies Say Sorry

by Kumikoseph



Series: The Language Of Flowers [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alcohol, Anger, Character Development, Dancing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Heavy Angst, Horror, Humour, Kidnapping, Loki (Marvel) Gets a Hug, Loki Needs a Hug, Loki is not okay, Nightmares, Possessive Behavior, Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017), Protective Loki (Marvel), Remorse, Rescue Missions, Romance, Secret Identity, Slow Burn, Stalking, Suicidal Thoughts, Thor (Marvel) is a Good Bro, Trampolines, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-30
Updated: 2018-05-09
Packaged: 2019-02-08 20:02:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 27
Words: 127,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12871971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kumikoseph/pseuds/Kumikoseph
Summary: Loki knew getting too close was a bad idea; her life was a mere blip in his long existence...But some things just happen.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place pretty much right after Ragnarok and, uh, I'm just gonna sweep that Infinity War trailer under the rug where it belongs because I can't deal with that right now. This story has angst out the wazoo, like for real - be prepared.

There was a chill in the air. The crisp leaves crunched beneath Loki’s shoes as he walked aimlessly down his chosen path out in the open area he had come across, away from the towering buildings that blocked out what little moonlight shone down through the clouded sky.

It was three o’clock in the morning, the only time of the day Loki really felt confident he could venture out of the Avengers Compound without having to deal with the headache of mortals possibly recognising him. The lack of exposure in the darkness, mixed with the absence of people at the late hour made for a peaceful and undisturbed wander; a breath of fresh air and a welcomed change from being confined to one room all day.

Loki had only just been granted free reign outside of the Tower - not that he’d been allowed any true freedom since returning to Earth following the destruction of Asgard. His every move was being monitored, his location tracked, sending data back to Tony Stark in real time; if Loki was to try  _ anything _ at all, the Avengers would be alerted within seconds, and his plans would be thwarted once again.

Of course, world domination was no longer present on his list of priorities, so he didn’t have to worry about that happening.

The only thing Loki had to worry about was finding a way to entertain himself while facing the fact that everybody he interacted with on a regular basis held utter disdain for him. It didn’t matter that he’d helped save the people of Asgard, his previous actions on Earth had led to a lifetime of wariness from all those around him. Even Thor, his  _ loving _ brother, continued to regard him with a hint of cynicism.

Then again, after the amount of times Loki had betrayed the God of Thunder, he didn’t really blame him.

It was difficult living on Earth. Midgardian literature, while providing at least minimal enjoyment, was dull in comparison to the many books he had read in his lifetime. The question on Loki’s mind was  _ how do mortals have fun? _

So there he was, taking a late night stroll through the empty streets of the city in the hopes that he could end up somewhere fun.

Loki found himself in a cemetery.

It was as if he was naturally drawn there, the quiet serenity was intoxicating; it was a place he could be alone with his thoughts - not a living soul within its gates at such an hour. Death was not exactly daunting to the God of Mischief, he had seen a lot of it in his many years of living, a good handful of which was by his own hand.

His green eyes fell to the endless rows of headstones as he wondered whether any of them belonged to the people whose blood was on his hands. He didn’t know how many people had perished in the Chitauri invasion several years ago, but Loki could only assume it was in the hundreds. His actions did not haunt him, he was not conscience-stricken over the lives he had taken; he had no reason to care for the people he had killed or the losses their families had suffered.

He was simply indifferent. The Avengers didn’t have anything to fret about, however, Loki didn’t plan on killing anymore innocent humans - it was far more trouble than it was worth.

A dark shape caught Loki’s eye and he came to a stop, lingering at the end of the row of graves while he attempted to deduce why a human would be out in a graveyard at three o’clock in the morning. Whoever it was, they weren’t doing much; the figure was knelt in front of a headstone, a hood covering their head and obscuring their face, hands hidden in the pockets of their coat.

Curiosity piqued Loki’s mind, and with quiet steps, he approached them gradually; the figure was ominously still and if Loki didn’t know any better, he’d assume they were frozen solid.

As his looming shadow blocked out what precious little moonlight there was, the human practically squealed, springing up with impressive speed before stumbling back a few steps - it was a young woman, Loki observed, and fear was present in her eyes as she stared up at him through wide spectacles.

The God of Mischief held his breath, afraid he’d been recognised, until the woman released a string of nervous laughter and exclaimed, “Oh, hahaa- you scared me…” the pitch of her voice was high and she appeared breathless from the fright he’d given her. She looked away momentarily, reaching up to wipe her hand over her cheeks, brushing tears from her face, before regarding him again with a cautious expression.

Loki dragged his eyes across her meek-looking form; he supposed she wasn’t too terribly short for a mortal woman, but he still seemed to tower over her with his height. She was tense and curled in on herself, shoulders raised but slumped in a natural posture to help fight off the cold; it made her look weak and tiny.

Her clothes weren’t ideal for keeping her warm, which was somewhat confounding given that low temperatures pierced through mortals like a well-sharpened blade; what Loki had assumed was her coat was actually nothing more than a thin hoodie. Her legs were clad with worn jeans and she exhaled shuddering breaths, gently shivering.

His eyes fell to the delicate bouquet of flowers placed carefully before the grave, a sprig of white lilies wrapped in a clear film; Loki’s brow furrowed. Human burial customs were boring and without logic, the funerals of Asgardians were far more grand and memorable; he didn’t see the sense in stuffing a lifeless body into a hole in the ground to cover with dirt, and he certainly didn’t see sense in leaving flowers on the grave. Flowers lived shorter lives than humans, they would wilt and die in less than a week, and remain an ugly blemish on what should be an elegant memorial, until replaced with another pointless garland.

The human woman before him audibly swallowed, likely uncomfortable by Loki’s silence; did she expect him to say something? What was there to say?

She opened her mouth as if she was going to make smalltalk and Loki’s jaw clenched; he found it loathsome that humans found it necessary to break silence with inane chit-chat.

“Are you here to say goodbye to someone too?” the woman asked him, her eyes scanning his face curiously, and Loki’s gaze narrowed on her in mild confusion, wondering where she had gotten such an idea. The human seemed to realise she had been presumptuous and quickly rushed to apologise.

“Ah, sorry, I just assumed cause of… well, cause of how you’re dressed…” she trailed off, blinking as Loki’s eyes flickered down to his all black suit and tie ensemble, taking slight offense. It was rich of her to insult his fashion while she was dressed as she was.

“What is wrong with how I’m dressed?” Loki’s tone hid an edge of indignance, and the woman appeared visibly surprised by his voice; her eyes widened minimally at the minor outrage in his words.

“N-nothing at all, sir. I just- made an assumption that you were here to mourn someone. My bad.” She turned away abruptly, looking back to the grave before her and chewed her bottom lip nervously.

Loki took a moment to scrutinise the woman’s face; tufts of brown hair peeked out from below her hood, covering her forehead. Her cheeks were red as a result of the crisp temperature and there was a lingering sadness in her eyes; there was nothing special about her, she was a dull, ordinary human, so insignificant that it was laughable.

He set his sights on the grave she bore her eyes into, taking in the name and dates, ‘ _ Aaron Avery, August 19th 1981 - November 9th 2012 _ ’ the headstone read. The woman looked up again and Loki silently berated himself for hanging around as the mortal timidly opened her mouth again.

“My brother - he died a few years ago… I thought the world of him”, there was a hitch in her voice and Loki’s mouth twitched in disdain, “He was gonna do great things, and then… well, you can never really predict when an accident might happen.”

_ I thought the world of him _ . Those words were eerily similar to the words Thor had spoken to him -  _ Loki, I thought the world of you _ \- right before he’d attempted to betray the God of Thunder once again. In a way, Loki was glad Thor has seen through that trick and convinced him to lend a hand in saving the Asgardian people; Thor’s acceptance of Loki’s uncaring nature had ultimately led to Loki  _ caring _ . His relationship with his brother was mending at a tremendously slow pace, but mending nonetheless and it felt… peaceable.

It was still far from perfect, of course, but Loki never really pictured him and Thor having the perfect brotherly relationship.

The sound of the woman sniffling brought Loki from his reverie, and he watched her blink away the emotion in her eyes, attempting to put a damper on the tears threatening to flow.

Humans were so flagrant with their emotions; her brother had died roughly five years ago and here this woman was, unable to let go because she allowed herself to be led by her heart instead of her brain.

“Human life is frail”, Loki murmured nonchalantly; mortals were terrible at surviving.

The woman gave him a strange look, then shrugged her shoulders lightly, “I guess it is…”, she sighed, “Life fucking sucks sometimes.”

She sighed again, her breath visible in front of her face; the cold did not bother Loki in the slightest but it wasn’t doing this mortal any favours.

Loki exhaled a breath of amusement through his nose at her words, recounting the fair few times he felt like he’d been dealt a low hand at life, “I know.”

The woman was silent for a while, staring at her brother’s grave as her thoughts clearly reeled behind her eyes. She turned to Loki, a forced smile on her face, “I’m Amelia. What’s your name?”

 

Loki tensed, his eyes widening a fraction as a cloud of discomfort fell over him; he had no idea why he was still just standing there talking to the woman, but there was no way he was going to reveal his name - while she hadn’t recognised him by appearance, it would be wishful thinking to believe that even one human in New York didn’t know him by name. He’d taken care thus far not to make himself obvious the few times he had graced the streets with his presence and he wasn’t about to foolishly give his true identity to a mortal that hadn’t yet caught on. It only had the potential to make things difficult for him.

He’d had second thoughts upon returning to Midgard; the whole time Thor had spent convincing him to stay was thrown out the window the moment the Avengers saw him. Loki knew he could never belong there, and yet, because of his brother, he had no choice but to at least  _ attempt _ to integrate into society - despite how detestable it was to be around humans.

He had to try not to scare away every single person he came across.

His eyes flitted over Amelia’s head as his brain struggled to think of an alias and he caught sight of a van parked on a road just outside the cemetery gates, the words ‘ _ Jameson’s Electricals _ ’ printed across the side of it; his gaze fell back to the mortal.

“James.”

The woman’s stare lingered on him, her eyes narrowing suspiciously at his length of hesitation before answering, and Loki clenched his jaw, brow furrowing as she dared to look at him as though she didn’t believe him.

After a few wordless moments, Amelia smiled and nodded.

“Okay, James. What would you do if you only had twenty-four hours to live?”

The question caught Loki off guard, it was certainly an odd query to pose to someone you didn’t know in a cemetery at three o’clock in the morning - surely these weren’t the kinds of conversations that mortals regularly had?

Nevertheless, Loki chose to answer her.

“I’d find out whatever was threatening my life and destroy it before it can kill me”, he answered with monotonous honesty and the woman’s expression grew surprised, with perhaps the very slightest hint of amusement flickering in her eyes.

“Uh, let me reiterate. You can’t stop the fact that you’re going to die-”

“Why? That’s absurd.”

Amelia’s lips parted, an almost dumbfounded smile on her face as nervous laughter trickled from her mouth; she shifted briefly on her feet, “It’s just a hypothetical question. If you know you’re going to die, you only have twenty four hours and you can’t stop it - what would you do?”

Loki regarded her with a careful eye before his gaze wandered as he actually took a moment to ponder her question. If he truly only had such little time to live, and there was absolutely no feasible way of stopping it, he’d probably just spend his remaining hours doing whatever brought him pleasure.

“I’d drink fine wine, eat till I’m full, and sleep with whoever I want.” His voice held a note of disinterest, but deep down, something about her piqued his curiosity, made clear by the fact that he was still stood by her, entertaining her ridiculous question with a sincere response.

The woman smiled, but there was nothing mirthful about the curve of her lips, she looked bitter as she diverted her gaze from his face, “Yeah… that’s what most guys would say.”

Loki’s green eyes narrowed with indignance at being compared to ‘most guys’, as if he fell among the crowds of the  _ below-average _ creatures known as humans. Perhaps she hadn’t meant it as an insult, but coupled with the look of disappointment on her face, it was difficult for him not to feel offended by her ignorant comment.

“And how would  _ you _ spend your last twenty four hours?” He didn’t know what prompted him to ask. It may have been the desire to quip over her pointless answer as she had done to him, but he wished to retract it almost immediately - he simply did not care. He did not care about this human or her response to the inane question she had posed to him. Just as Loki was about to swiftly turn and be on his way, the woman spoke up.

“I don’t know…” she gave a light shrug, “I suppose I’d find the people I love and tell them I love them, but…” she trailed off, there was something left unspoken in her words and Loki arched an eyebrow as the mortal quickly looked away from him, trying to hide the look of turmoil that passed over her face.

“...I wouldn’t want to wait. If I knew I was going to die and I couldn’t stop it, I wouldn’t be able to find joy in anything… I’d want to end it sooner.”

Loki frowned, not because he felt any semblance of sympathy for the woman, but because he had hoped for a more exciting answer, “That is… utterly pointless.”

Amelia looked up at him in surprise, her eyes widening at his bluntness.

“Why not indulge? Make use of the time you have and the hand you’re given. Your life is already outrageously short and instead of doing something fun with your remaining time, you’d rather throw it away? Pitiful.” The words fell from his mouth before he could stop them, and Loki eyed the woman intensely.

Humans were  _ so _ ungrateful.

The mortal could do nothing but blink, her mouth hanging open comically; after a few wordless moments, she managed to snap her lips shut and clear her throat, forcing a little dignity back into her features. She swallowed heavily and looked back down to the grave of her departed brother.

“Uh. I… I mean…” she stuttered awkwardly, clearly not having expected such a forthright statement to come from the mouth of a stranger in such a gravelly, harsh tone, “Well, I… guess you’re right.”

There was a struggle in her eyes, as though she was wrestling with the thoughts in her head, a mix of shame and sadness over something Loki did not care enough to ask about; until her troubled expression relaxed and she seemed to settle over her reeling thoughts, nodding her head. Loki wasn’t entirely sure what to think of the human’s weird, restless pattern of thought and how quickly she seemed to go from one opinion to the other.

“Mm. Maybe I would spend it doing something worthwhile then... Like helping people.”

Loki’s lip curled in distaste, “Helping people? You’d dedicate your last hours to the benefit of someone else?”

Amelia looked at him like he’d grown a second head, “Well, yeah, I would… why is that surprising? Wouldn’t you help someone if you could?”

“I’m not that selfless.” Loki told her truthfully, a neutral expression on his face.

“Oh.”

It was at that moment Loki assumed her next words would be “ _ I have to leave immediately, goodbye _ ”, but instead Amelia appeared to accept his response with surprising grace, which left him a little confused. He expected her to argue with him, tell him he was a bad person for having such an outlook, or how he was  _ obliged _ to spend his last living hours doing what he could for other people simply because it was the  _ compassionate _ thing to do.

But she did nothing of the sort; merely nodded her head without any sort of hidden aversion.

After a few beats of silence, Loki spoke up, “That doesn’t bother you?” It wasn’t that he cared what one insignificant mortal thought of him, he was just oddly startled by her flippant reaction to his admission.

“Nah. I wouldn’t blame you for not thinking of others if you knew you only had twenty four hours to live”, she replied with a sort of half-smirk that had a strangely familiar quality to it, “It’s not a question with only one answer - different people with different opinions have different answers. I respect that.”

_ So the human does have some sense _ , Loki thought to himself.

Her eyes wandered as she thought distantly about something, before a small smile reached her lips, “Well, James, it’s been enlightening talking to you this evening, but it’s getting late and I should be heading home”, she paused to remove her hand from her pocket and held it out in the typical gesture for a handshake, “I’m glad I met you.”

Loki was floored by her words, but quickly reminded himself that had she known who he really was, she wouldn’t be talking to him so politely; he hid his surprise well behind pursed lips, and looked down at her hand with vague revulsion. 

How he hated the human custom of handshakes. It was so…  _ unhygienic _ .

Regardless, he sighed and accepted the gesture, offering his own hand.

“Whoa, your hand is very cold”, Amelia felt the need to comment; her own hand retained the warmth it had acquired from being buried in the pocket of her hoodie - his icy palm must’ve felt unpleasant to her, yet her grip was assured and tight. “You should get some black gloves to complete that  _ Angel of Death _ vibe you’ve got going”, her jest was accompanied with a playful wink and a bright grin that Loki could only roll his eyes at.

Something about her amused him, however, and he bit back a tight-lipped smile as he released her palm, and she shoved her hand back into her pocket with a visible shiver.

“Well, see you around, James.”

Loki said nothing, but inclined his head in farewell; Amelia cast one last longing glance to her brother’s grave before she turned and walked away.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got some wonderful comments in the first chapter, thank you all so much for taking the time to tell me how you felt about my story - it really inspires me to get the next chapter out as soon as possible! ;)

 

Boredom.

It was the plight of any great being, immortal or otherwise. The ghastly feeling of having absolutely nothing to do was maddening and left Loki in a sour mood; ordinarily he’d head down to the recreation room of the Avenger’s Tower and pick a random book from the shelf to occupy his time - but  _ he’d read all the books _ . 

His brother had suggested he turn on the television and flick through the channels until he found something worth watching, but Loki had no interest in subjecting himself to the cringeworthy visual entertainment of mortals. Where was the fun in staring at a screen for hours on end?

It was nearing eleven o’clock at night. Usually Loki would wait at least another three hours before leaving the tower, but time was flowing like hardening cement, and patience was not in his nature.

On the way to the elevators, the God of Mischief caught brief sight of Tony Stark, who was fixing himself a coffee; it wasn’t unusual to find the  _ Stark Industries _ CEO up until the early hours of the morning, and Loki predicted the man would most likely still be awake by the time he returned from his nightly wander.

“Hey- Reindeer Games, where you off to?” Tony called down the hall, and Loki halted his stride, an exasperated sigh rushing past his lips.

“Must you insist on referring to me in such a way?” Loki sneered with a glance over his shoulder, “I’m not even  _ wearing _ the horns.”

Tony’s head appeared from the doorway of the kitchen, steaming mug of coffee in hand, “Well, it’s nearing Christmas, seems appropriate. You’re avoiding my question.”

Loki’s mouth twitched with discontent; he knew very little about the human holiday of  _ Christmas _ , and he knew not what it had to do with the infernal nickname Tony persistently used for him. “It is none of your concern”, he answered through gritted teeth.

Tony eyed him for a moment before taking a sip of his coffee, and drew his gaze over Loki’s jet-black suit, prompting the God of Mischief to glare at the man, “Alright, well, we’re watching you.”

Loki swallowed the growl of displeasure in the back of his throat and merely grumbled, “I know”, in a none-too-happy tone.

Before the other man could delay him any further, Loki continued on his way, the loud clicks of his shoes supplementing each step so that Tony knew exactly how resentful he was.

* * *

 

Loki kept to the shadows as he walked. While there weren’t crowds of people around on the streets, there were still  _ enough _ , too many for his liking; unlike his previous walks, he didn’t stray into more open areas, instead electing to slither through dark alleys and empty underpasses - the kinds of places mortals tended to elude.

He inhaled the cold winter air, disappointed by the lack of crisp freshness drawn into his lungs - he could  _ taste _ the pollution of the city and it made him miss his home. Asgard was never so disgusting; Loki couldn’t understand the knack humans had for destroying their own planet. If it wasn’t for them, Midgard would be a place of beauty, perhaps a place where he’d be willing to stay. 

Then again, Norway had been admittedly beautiful for the whole three minutes Loki had spent there shortly before the rude interruption from his so-called sister.

But no, he was confined to a contaminated city for the foreseeable future.

Loki rounded a corner, exiting an alley, out into a less populated avenue; he stayed close to the walls of the buildings, out of the glaring streetlights, and let his legs guide the way. He passed by the dim lights emanating from bar windows, his superior hearing picked up on the ambient noise of humans talking to one another in drunken stupors and the soft vibrations of loud music from nearby nightclubs.

The sounds were oddly soothing; with so many layers of noise, it was impossible to make sense of the precise conversations mortals were having or the actual lyrics of the songs playing, and there was something pacifying about the distant blare - it distracted him somewhat from his boredom and gave him something to focus on.

Until a rowdy human broke the pleasant atmosphere with a harsh shout across the street to an acquaintance. Loki gave an irritable exhale, increasing his speed minutely, wishing to escape the noise; the racket continued, growing louder still to the point it drove him to grind his teeth together.

The shrill snap of the human’s voice was replaced by fast-paced footsteps, as though someone was running towards him, but it wasn’t until Loki felt a hand seize his arm that he actually reacted, swinging around so suddenly, and wrenched his limb away from the human’s clutches. Almost subconsciously, he fell into an imposing stance, primed to attack if need be, towering over the mortal with all the intimidation he could muster.

“ _ James!  _ What, are you suddenly deaf or something? I was calling you-” It was Amelia, the woman he had met three weeks prior; she recoiled slightly at his sudden defensive posture, giving him a wide-eyed and apologetic look. “-Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You did  _ not _ scare me.” Loki retorted, aggravated at the way the woman’s expression softened - as if a  _ mortal _ could strike fear into  _ his  _ heart.

Amelia rose an eyebrow at his overreaction, the corner of her lip curling slightly upwards as she quirked her head at an angle, watching him with a careful eye; he scrutinised her in return, trying to interpret the meaning behind the gleam of her dark eyes.

“So how’re you doing?” She suddenly inquired, a chipper tone to her voice that had not been present the first time they had met.

Loki noted that the woman was dressed warmly this time, wearing a puffy crimson coat and a ridiculous looking bobble hat to deter the piercing cold around them; there was a different air about her, something genuine in her smile that made him suspicious.

“I’m…” Loki promptly trailed off. Was he really going to subject himself to odd conversations with this human again or was it in his better interest to resume his aimless meandering in hopes of curing his boredom?

The apathy was eating away at him. He needed something to keep himself occupied before he was driven insane, and this mortal admittedly had been interesting enough the first time they met.

“I’m bored”, he told her, plain-spoken and simple.

Her brow lifted in response to his answer and she giggled, “Oh, well that’s no good. Are you off somewhere exciting, or…?” Her voice faded near the end of her sentence, but her eyes awaited a reply and Loki glanced briefly over his shoulder to make sure the area was still free of people.

“Not quite”, he spoke, “I was hoping excitement might find me.”

“I feel your pain, James”, Amelia declared, “Being bored is the  _ worst.  _ I wouldn’t wish it on my enemies.” There was a jesting grin on her face which soon dissolved at Loki’s unamused manner and her lips formed an awkward pucker as she shrugged her shoulders before pointing down the road with her thumb, “Wanna go get a drink?”

“What?” Loki blinked a few times, surprised by her offer; from what he understood, at least as a literary trope, a human asking another human if they wanted to grab a drink often lead to some interesting activities.

“Yeah, there’s a pretty good bar down the street - nice atmosphere, good music. Unless you don’t drink?” She quickly backtracked, looking up at him with wide, inquiring eyes.

“I drink”, he affirmed, but the alcoholic content of mortal’s drinks were far too weak in comparison to Asgardian beverages; there was no way in the Nine Realms that he could get drunk off of whatever drink a human presented him with. Then there was the solid fact that he just generally hated people, and the thought of being around drunken mortals who had the potential to recognise him was quite unappealing. “But I don’t like… crowds”, he settled with, hoping the woman wouldn’t pry for an explanation.

“Ah”, Amelia uttered, nodding her head in understanding, “That’s fair.”

An uncomfortable silence fell, and Amelia shifted in place, a fidgety air about her as she glanced up and down the street, tapping her teeth together with thoughtful look on her face, until she finally spoke up, “How about… well, you could… come back to mine? For a drink?”

Loki stared hard at the woman, struggling to pinpoint her intentions. Was she propositioning him? Hoping to lure him back to her home so she could attempt to seduce him to her bed?

His eyebrows furrowed as his gaze flickered down over her body; she wasn’t exactly a model, not the kind of woman he typically went for. She was roughly five inches shorter than him, her brown hair was short and slightly askew, peeking out from below the bobble hat and falling just below her ears, curls flicking up in all directions. The glasses resting on her nose made her dark eyes look bigger than they actually were, to the point where it was almost comical, and her cheeks were rather chubby, harbouring a soft sprinkle of freckles across the middle of her face. Her lips weren’t full or bright in colour, and they were slightly chapped from the cold weather; she wasn’t conventionally attractive but he supposed she wasn’t terribly ugly either. 

Just plain… and human.

His drawn out inspection of her appearance triggered a reaction from her and her eyes grew wide, mouth falling open as her cheeks tinged red, “Hey, uh- I mean  _ just  _ a drink, you know! Nothing else!” She reiterated with a stammer, clearly embarrassed at how suggestive her words may have sounded.

Loki smirked, finding her flustered state quite hilarious, and inclined his head in a curt nod, “Alright. Why not?” Even if he couldn’t get drunk from the alcohol she provided, it was something  _ different _ to do and would keep him entertained.

In a flash, Amelia’s bashfulness was forgotten, a pleasantly surprised, open-mouthed smile on her face as she blinked a few times quickly, “Really? You’ll actually join me for a drink?” She sounded disbelieving, and Loki had the fleeting, cruel urge to tell her  _ ‘nope, just kidding’ _ and laugh at her disappointment, but the impulse passed - he didn’t want to renew the state of dull monotony that was his life at that moment.

“Did I stutter?” He quipped instead, his facetious tone drawing a pout to Amelia’s face.

“Alright, alright, my apartment’s this way, follow me”, the woman exclaimed, taking a few steps towards the direction Loki had come from; her gaze lingered on him until he began to pursue after her, and her smile returned, happy he was following.

* * *

 

Amelia’s home was nothing like what Loki had expected.

It was on the upper floors of a high-rise apartment building; they had to ride an elevator to reach it, and Loki could already tell by the exceptionally clean white walls and dustless carpet in the hallway that the block was wealthy and well-kept. It was nowhere near the level of expense that the Avengers Tower was, but it wasn’t too much of a stretch to assume Amelia had to be quite affluent to own accommodation there.

Strange, she hadn’t come across as though she was in possession of a lot of money.

Amelia shifted her weight back and forth on her feet while she remained completely silent as the elevator rose, until the little light dinged as they reached the eleventh floor; the woman motioned left out of the lift and Loki stepped out into the flawless corridor.

“Just down here, number forty-two”, she informed him, reaching into her bag to fish out her keys; she fumbled for a moment and Loki looked down his nose at her, crossing his arms impatiently.

“...sorry, ah- there we go”, she pulled the keys out and quickly hurried to unlock the front door to her apartment.

Loki was right, it was a  _ grand _ apartment. The decor was simple and elegant, there wasn’t a hint of dirt or grime anywhere; he scanned the room, admiring the furnishings - polished pine wood flooring paved the living room, a fuzzy brown rug placed before the black leather couch, a clear-glass dining table with two brown felt chairs tucked under it, and a modestly sized flat screen television affixed to the wall - before his eyes fell to the glorious view beyond the ceiling-to-floor windows.

Manhattan looked better from this angle, as opposed to skulking around at ground level; the lights were colourful and even at midnight, the city was full of life. Loki had to begrudgingly admit, it was beautiful.

“Enjoying the view?” Amelia spoke from behind him. Loki gave a succinct hum of agreement with a small nod of his head, glancing back over his shoulder to find the woman had stripped her coat and bobble hat, revealing a garish, multicoloured sweater that looked a little too big for her.

She crossed the room to the attached bar which concealed a drinks cabinet and mini-fridge; Loki quirked an eyebrow, giving the room another once over before approaching.

“Your home is…”

“Stylish?” Amelia offered with a knowing look on her face as she procured two glasses from the cupboard, “How does a whiskey sound?”

“Unexpectedly sophisticated”, Loki corrected, “Whiskey is fine.”

Amelia’s face scrunched into a playful pout at his words; she pulled out a bottle of scotch and poured them both a glass,  _ “Unexpectedly, _ huh? What exactly is that supposed to mean?"

Loki swiped up a glass, taking a small swig of the golden yellow liquid; it was warm in his throat and tasted pleasant enough, but while it was a strong drink for a mortal, he knew he wasn’t going to get anything out of.

“It means when we first met three weeks ago, you looked like a vagrant, so this...”, he motioned the room with a wave of his hand, “...was unanticipated.”

Amelia had been halfway through a sip of her own beverage when the words left Loki’s mouth, and she sputtered slightly, swallowing the alcohol so as not to choke on it, a vaguely disgruntled look on her face. She grumbled incoherently under her voice for a few seconds before her expression changed, becoming lighter, and she shrugged, “Well I wasn’t at my best three weeks ago. You shouldn’t judge a book by its cover.”

Loki rolled his eyes at the idiom.

“Besides, if we’re going on appearances alone, you look like a goddamn vampire, so there”, Amelia continued slyly, pressing her lips to the rim of her glass to hide a smirk.

She found Loki’s resulting glare rather amusing, snorting as he eyed her as though she were nothing more than a pest. It was quite irritating that his intimidating stares didn’t have the desired effect - if anything, she seemed to be made more giggly despite his efforts to ruffle her.

It was different. Never before had a mortal snickered in response to his chilling demeanour. 

Amelia took a seat on the couch, bringing the bottle of whiskey along with her in case of the need for refills, and her eyes flicked down to the space beside her, “Take a seat.”

Loki sighed inaudibly; he had no inclination to get comfortable and he didn’t like the way she made the offer to sit sound like more of a demand, but she looked pointedly at him, confusion swirling in her brown eyes when he didn’t move from his standing position partway between the bar and the couch.

“What’s wrong? You seem… tense…” Amelia spoke carefully, a concerned quality to her voice, “I haven’t made you uncomfortable, have I?”

“No”, Loki answered, before taking another sip of the whiskey. The liquid was warm in this throat and he darted his tongue out to lick his lips, “It’s just how I am.” He’d been staying at the Avengers Tower for months now, and over the duration of his stay, he’d grown more and more restless in his boredom, high-strung and unrelaxed - but there was no easy way to explain  _ that  _ to the woman.

“Well then”, she spoke, patting the seat with her palm, “Maybe it’d be good for you to sit down and relax? The alcohol will probably help anyway.”

Loki regarded her with a suspicious stare for a few moments, trying again to piece together her intentions. She had assured him the invite was for nothing more than a drink, but her words sounded unnatural, unlike what he’d expect from a mortal simply looking for innocent company.

If she was trying to get him drunk… “I’m not a lightweight”, he warned her with a crooked smirk and Amelia let out a laugh.

“Neither am I, buddy”, she stated, raising her glass, “But I have  _ a lot  _ of alcohol to fix that with.”

Loki’s brow furrowed; Amelia was direct and outspoken, she didn’t hold the tone of a person who had something to hide… maybe it was just because his life was a cluster of distrust and caution, perhaps he was reading too much into the situation.

He sat on the couch beside her, unbuttoning his suit jacket so that the material didn’t stretch as he bent down; he didn’t sink back into the leather of the sofa like Amelia had, instead his back was straight and he held the glass of scotch at his knee, swishing the liquid around in circles.

A glint caught his eye as Amelia moved to pour a little more whiskey into her glass, and his eyes fell on the gold watch around her wrist that he hadn’t noticed before then - it was only slightly visible underneath the bright sleeve of her sweater. It looked like an expensive piece of jewellery and it shined beneath the artificial light in the room, seemingly well looked-after. Except for one thing. The watch face was broken, a very clear crack in the delicate glass, the hands of the clock unmoving. Strange, if she had the money to afford her current living arrangements, then surely she had the money to replace a fancy watch?

“Please, help yourself if you want more, James”, Amelia declared, sitting back on her crossed legs. Again, Loki was reminded bitterly that he was living under a masquerade in this woman’s presence; he damned his temporary inability to come up with a better pseudonym other than  _ James _ \- usually he was brilliant and quick-witted when it came to playing someone he wasn’t, but he had never planned to acquaint himself with a human.

Loki looked up from his glass when he felt the woman’s eyes on him, she was regarding him with a pensive look, to which he frowned, “What?”

Amelia shook her head, smiling dismissively, “How old are you?”

The question came from out of nowhere, and Loki blinked once, his eyes flicking away as he wondered how old he  _ looked _ as far as humans were concerned.

“How old are  _ you?” _ he countered, and Amelia arched an eyebrow.

“I asked you first.”

“And I asked you second, what’s your point?”

Loki was aware how juvenile the exchange had become, but he retained a pursed-lipped expression as he stared her down, even as the woman began to chuckle.

“Wow, okay. I’m twenty-eight years old.” Amelia answered, “And you?”

He was thousands of years old by the mortal calendar; Asgardians aged differently than Midgardians and Loki wasn’t quite sure how his age translated in comparison, but he supposed he looked younger than Tony Stark, who was in his mid forties if Loki remembered correctly.

“I’m thirty five”, Loki replied in a convincing tone, “are you satisfied?” 

“Yep!” Amelia gave him a bubbly smile, drawing a sigh from his lips; Loki was beginning to wonder if he truly preferred the company of the woman’s increasingly zealous disposition to his abject boredom. He could tolerate it, sure, but Amelia had gone quiet now, and their dialogue had reached a dead end.

It appeared it was up to Loki to steer their talk back into valuable territory, so he enquired over something that had been a little perplexing in his mind, “You must have a high-end occupation to be able to afford this living standard”, it was just an observation, though phrased inquisitively.

A bitter smile reached her face, similar to the one she had worn three weeks ago - Loki couldn’t remember exactly what had triggered it last time - but he rose a curious eyebrow at her downcast eyes; she stared heavily into her drink, tapping her fingers against the glass in a fidgety manner.

“You’d think so… but no, I work in a florist down the road.”

Loki waited for an explanation to his very obvious unasked question, but it never came, so instead he prompted her, “Then… how?” he motioned the costly decor of her exorbitant apartment and a knit became visible in her eyebrows.

She curled slightly in on herself, the atmosphere between them changing drastically at his simple enquiry.

“It was my brother’s apartment.”

That explained her sudden subdued attitude.

“He was an orthopedic surgeon, made a  _ ludicrous _ amount of money. We lived here together for five years and then he… passed away. I inherited his earnings, and that’s that.” Her voice caught briefly in her throat and Loki felt his teeth grind together at the potential Amelia had to break down in tears - he could not comfort a human. It was awkward enough in the cemetery last time when she became emotional.

“I see”, Loki hoped to conclude that line of conversation; at least his curiosity had been satisfied over how a woman like her owned such a lavished apartment.

“What about you? You have a nice home?” she sounded almost matter-of-factly, as though she  _ assumed _ he had a similar housing arrangement.

“What?” Loki murmured.

“Well, you seemed surprised by my home, but not unfamiliar with the luxury”, she explained, “People who have average homes would be more awed by a place like this, but you got over it pretty quick.”

Loki’s expression straightened out; the woman was clearly more observant than she let on. She wasn’t simple-minded like her conduct had suggested, well, not entirely; the corner of Loki’s mouth twisted slightly upwards.

“You are right. I am used to grandeur, and my current…  _ home”,  _ he uttered the word with reluctance, “is opulent.” There was no denying the Avengers Tower was a wealthy place to live - it was no Asgardian palace, but it was better than he could have asked for in his situation, even if it sort of,  _ kind of  _ felt like a prison.

“But it is temporary”, he continued, at least he  _ hoped _ it was temporary. He really didn’t want to live with the Avengers for the rest of his long life, “My original home was destroyed.” The words left his mouth before he could revise his wording.

_ “Destroyed!?”  _ Amelia squeaked, eyes wide, “What, like, there was a fire?”

Loki pursed his lips, thinking about the way he had watched Asgard perish in the flames of Surtur, “...something like that.”

“Holy shit, I’m… I’m sorry”, Amelia stammered, and Loki shook his head, brushing away her pointless words of comfort. Humans were ridiculously empathetic.

“It doesn’t matter”, he stated simply.

Amelia’s mouth snapped shut at his terse tone, knowing better than to offer any solace or push the subject at all; she fell silent, finding interest in her drink once more as she slightly swirled her glass, watching the scotch splash and displace. 

The atmosphere had grown too awkward.

“I should go.” Loki spoke suddenly, rising from the couch, and Amelia looked up in surprise, disappointment visible in the creases of her forehead.

“What? But- we haven’t even finished the whiskey!” She said it with an edge of humour and an underlying hope that it would somehow convince him to stay.

Instead, Loki reached wordlessly for the bottle and poured what was left of the golden liquid into his glass, before gracefully downing it all in just a few seconds. Amelia’s mouth fell open in shock; it was clear from the tilt of her head and the way she blinked several times that she was, without a doubt, impressed.

“What was that, a power play?” Amelia spoke incredulously.

“A solution. I’m leaving.” Loki placed his empty glass on the coffee table and straightened out his suit jacket, buttoning it up.

“Wait!” Amelia blurted out, quickly jumping to her feet, glass forgotten on the table, “Can I at least get your number or something?

What interest could the woman possibly have in keeping contact with him?

“I have no phone”, he told her honestly.

Amelia blinked at him, “You’re kidding, right?”

Instead of responding, Loki began to stalk towards the front door, followed quickly by the scampering woman, “Wait, wait, wait!” she cried again. Her hand curled around his arm just as he reached the exit and Loki turned to her exasperatedly, his mouth drawn into a deep frown.

_ “What?” _

“Will you come back again? Same time next week?” her voice was overtly hopeful, her grip on his arm was gentle but firm, willing him to not to walk out the door and never come back.

Amelia had only known Loki - no,  _ James _ \- for a total of about two hours altogether, and yet there was something in her eyes begging him to return. He looked down at her desperate hold on his arm, and his eyes trailed to the broken watch secured at her wrist; he couldn’t deny that something about her intrigued him. Something unseen, something hidden deep. 

Loki didn’t have anything better to do.

“Alright.”

The woman spent a few seconds processing his one word response before she positively beamed and a wide, open-mouthed smile graced her features. Loki rolled his eyes at her delighted reaction.

Amelia nodded animatedly, “We can have another drink, or- or we could have dinner, maybe watch a movie and listen to music, or-”

Loki stopped her, “Just a drink.” His words left no room for argument, and the woman deflated ever so slightly.

“A drink… and pizza?” She tried again carefully and Loki sighed;  _ if it would shut her up. _

“Fine.”

“Also, wear something more casual.”

“Don’t push it.”

Amelia licked her lips, biting back a smile, “Remember, I’m room forty-two on the eleventh floor. Do you need me to walk you down, or-”

“No.” Loki left the apartment room, eyes ahead as he made his way to the elevator, purposefully not looking back.

He felt her gaze on the back of his head up until he rounded the corner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember to leave a comment and let me know what you enjoy about the chapter! :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That elevator scene with Thor and Loki in Ragnarok is one of my fave things ever and absolutely inspired the first bit of this chapter.

“Distracted, brother?”

Loki narrowly avoided the harsh impact of Thor’s clenched fist coming in contact with the side of his face, jerking back so abruptly that he lost his balance due to the unnatural stance he fell into. Thinking fast, he thrust his hand out, palm flat, to steady himself against the hard, steel floor and swung his body round, kicking Thor’s legs out from beneath him.

The bulky God of Thunder went crashing to the floor with little grace, letting out a loud grunt as he did so; Thor was up again in moments, catching Loki’s wrists as the man came at him with his daggers. A swift kick to the chest left Loki sprawled on his back across the hard ground, and Thor had him pinned down in an instant, snatching up one of Loki’s daggers and pressing it insistently against the God of Mischief’s neck.

Thor’s wide and victorious grin was infuriating, Loki knew he had no chance to escape while his brother held him down with all his crushing weight.

“You  _ are  _ distracted, aren’t you?” Thor enquired, a smug and taunting edge to his voice, “That is unlike you, brother.”

“Get off of me”, Loki seethed through gritted teeth, trying his best to shift into a position that gave him leverage, to no avail.

“Give up?” Loki felt the blade of his own dagger press slightly harder against his neck and rolled his eyes.

“Fine, I  _ yield”,  _ he hissed; the constricting pressure on his chest was making it hard to breathe, and he was growing rather vexed at having to stare at his brother’s complacent expression. Thor rose up with a simper, dropping the dagger at Loki’s side, and offered his brother a hand up; Loki sneered as he pulled himself to his feet, ignoring the extended hand, and began to stalk towards the exit of the sparring hall with a clear tenseness to his shoulders.

“What’s gotten into you, brother?” Thor called out, following after him, “I thought a good fight would take your edge off but you clearly have other things on your mind.”

_ “ _ Absolutely nothing at all”, Loki murmured as he entered the elevator and hit the button for the upper floors.

The larger of the two men quickly slipped into the lift as the doors began to close and quirked an inquisitive eyebrow at the other, “Come on, Loki. You seemed happy earlier when I suggested a sparring session - well, I say  _ happy.  _ ‘Less grumpy’ is probably a more accurate description. What is the matter?”

An exasperated sigh left Loki’s lips, “I have somewhere to be. I don’t see how it’s any of  _ your  _ business, though.”

Thor’s eyes narrowed in confusion, “I was under the belief you had nothing to do. Where are you heading at such a late hour? Not getting up to any mischief, I hope?” That annoying little grin was once again present on his face, and Thor punctuated his words with a heavy clap to the back of Loki’s shoulder.

“Nowhere important.” Loki hoped the answer would be sufficient enough to curb Thor’s curiosity, he really didn’t want to get into this now, but instead the other crossed his arms, regarding him with even more scrutiny.

“I’m not sure I believe that, brother. You’ve been wallowing in your boredom for months now, too prideful to ask for a sparring partner, and then when I finally suggest it, you seem in a rush to get away.” Thor smirked, shrugging his shoulders, “You don’t have to tell me, I can find out from Stark.”

Loki pursed his lips, glaring hard at the steel elevator doors, wishing the ascent didn’t seem so agonisingly slow; a low rumble escaped his throat on an exhale. It was bad enough that Stark knew his exact movements; if he sated his brother’s curiosity then he didn’t have to reveal his precise location.

“I’m merely visiting someone.”

“A friend?” The shock in Thor’s voice riled Loki up and for a brief moment he wished he hadn’t cut their sparring session short, given the rising urge inside him to punch the blond man in the face.

“An _ acquaintance.”  _ Loki corrected with an icy tone.

“A Midgardian?” Thor’s eyebrows raised in surprise, his blue eyes trained on Loki’s face to try and extrapolate whether or not his assumption was true.

“Stop prying your nose into other people’s business-”

“It  _ is _ a Midgardian!?” The look on Thor’s face was one of incredulity; his wide, open-mouthed and astonished smile was nothing if not entirely aggravating, especially since Loki could anticipate the onslaught of teasing that was surely headed his way.

Thor’s gaze returned to the elevator doors, his expression a little more restrained, his smile now limited to a slight curl of his lips, “You actually made a friend?”

“I told you, she’s not a _ friend”, _ Loki blurted out, quickly realising his mistake.

“A woman? A Midgardian woman? Ah, brother-”, nothing could keep the joy out of Thor’s voice as he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. Loki began to repeatedly slam his clenched fist against the ‘open doors’ button, willing the doors to unbolt immediately. “-Are you  _ courting _ this Midgardian woman?”

_ “Don’t be absurd”,  _ Loki snapped through gritted teeth.

“Well, you’re  _ awfully _ defensive, brother”, Thor’s face held an expression of jest and Loki glowered at the man as the lift doors finally opened.

“You are insufferable.” Loki jeered, leaving the vessel without another word; much to his dismay, he could still sense the amusement radiating from Thor in waves.   
  


* * *

“James!” Amelia squeaked upon answering the door of her apartment; Loki found her excitable shriek to be grating on his ears and rolled his eyes as she practically bounced up and down on her feet as he entered the room. The apartment was a little more cosy than it had been the previous week, with the heating turned on and the warm yellow light of the wall sconces gleaming instead of the harsh, white illumination of the ceiling light. The television was on, playing some show that Loki did not care for.

“How are you?” she asked, closing the door behind him, before skirting around him to grab her television remote, hitting the mute button.

Loki quickly took in her appearance - her brown hair was held back from her face with the help of a red headband, her glasses high on the bridge of her nose, slightly magnifying her already wide eyes, and her cheeks were a little rosier than he remembered, almost disguising the sprinkle of freckles on her face.

She wore a bright orange sweater and dark blue leggings, and  _ honestly _ , she looked as though she’d just walked out of an over-dramatised, colourful play; how could she dress like that and still take herself seriously?

“I’m well”, he answered her, before noticing her strangely concentrated perusal of his face; she arched an eyebrow, a spark of concern alighting in her eyes.

“Uh… are you sure?” she enquired cryptically and Loki frowned, “Because you kind of…” she raised a hand and motioned her entire face with a wave of her fingers, “You look like you’ve taken a tumble.”

Loki blinked, and looked slowly to the mirror hanging on the wall, noticing for the first time the abrasions on his face. There was graze on his forehead, a scrape across his nose and a purplish bruise just below his jaw; his sparring session with Thor had really not been that vigorous and he had been far too distracted by his brother’s pointless teasing to remember to check his reflection before heading out that night.

He shook his head dismissively, “I was fighting my brother.” He breathed a soft sigh as he once again realised things did not work in Midgard the same way they had worked on Asgard; here on Earth it was apparently not commonplace to fight rigorously to train reflexes - at least, not in the  _ same _ way, if Amelia’s half-pitied, half-confused expression was anything to go by.

“Why were you fighting your brother?” she sounded puzzled, as if the concept of siblings fighting was somehow alien to her.

“It was training”, Loki clarified, not wishing to spend his evening explaining the ins and outs of his relationship with his brother, “We get competitive.”

“Oh”, Amelia murmured gently, “I see.” Loki narrowed his eyes at her soft tone, pinpointing the empathy in her expression - it irritated him beyond belief, he didn’t want her to act sorry for him over something so trivial.

“James, I… can I ask you a serious question?”

Loki’s eyebrows furrowed, his gaze falling on her with suspicion at her suddenly grave tone; her ever changing emotions were quite a spectacle - the way she went from bouncy and excited to pitying and then to sombre in such a short time was just plain ridiculous.

“What?” Loki’s tone was someone wary.

“Do you…” she sighed, diverting her gaze away from him briefly before looking him square in the face, “Do you  _ own _ any other clothes?”

For just a moment, she held her solemn expression together, and then she burst into hysterical giggles at Loki’s deadpan stare. Another jest at his Midgardian attire; really, if it was up to him, he would stick to his Asgardian garments - they was far more flattering and definitely added to his intimidating presence. Why did everyone find humour in his choice of a black suit?

“And do you own any clothes that aren’t senselessly lurid?” Loki riposted, raising his voice to boom over her incessant tittering.

Amelia wasted no time in countering, “Hey, at least I own  _ multiple _ senselessly lurid clothes!” Her challenging grin reminded him all too much of his brother’s, and immediately he stalked towards her, looming over her as she quickly sunk back in a puddle of nervous simpers. She retreated until the back of her thighs hit the arm of the couch and she plunged backwards against the cushiony leather, hands held up in surrender. “Alright, I’m sorry!” she squeaked, biting her lower lip.

Loki’s eyes flickered to the coffee table, catching sight of the opened bottle of vodka sat beside a carton of orange juice and a half-filled glass; Amelia had already been drinking and was most likely at least a little bit tipsy - that certainly explained a lot, particularly her exaggerated cheerful mood and the spring to her movements.

“You started drinking without me”, Loki observed, completely unbothered by the fact, but Amelia gave him a comical pout.

“Oh, I’m sorry, next time I’ll wait”, her voice was tinged with playfulness as she moved to sit upright.

Loki looked skeptically at her, “Next time?”

Amelia blinked a few times fast before quickly jumping to her feet, “Uhh, anyway, would you like vodka? Or shall I get you more whiskey?” She scuttered across the room towards the bar, her feet padding against the floor as she went to grab a new glass.

“Do you have red wine?” There was a hopeful inflection in his voice. Wine was one of a number of alcoholic beverages that Midgard and Asgard had in common, and one of the ones he favoured.

Amelia paused, surveying the bottles of wine on the rack, before offering an apologetic look, “No red wine, only white wine.”

Loki sat on the couch, “White wine will do.” Red was his favourite, white was tolerable. 

She returned with the bottle and a stem glass, pouring him a generous amount before handing it over; Loki gingerly sniffed the liquid before taking a sip. Of course, it wasn’t exactly the same as it had been on Asgard, but the taste was still pleasant.

Amelia took a seat on the other side of the couch, retrieving her own drink from the table; she regarded Loki with a small smile and although his eyes were on the translucent liquid in his glass, he was aware of her staring in his peripheral.

“What?” Loki asked without looking up, and Amelia shifted, exhaling a soft breath of amusement.

“Nothing, just… thanks for coming.”

Loki’s expression was neutral as he looked at her, unable to surmise whether she was being facetious or not; he couldn’t remember the last time someone had  _ thanked  _ him for his presence. His thoughts spiraled around this mortal once again, wondering why she would even be grateful for his company; he wasn’t exactly warm and kind - far from it, in fact. He had been nothing but sarcastic and aloof towards her the two previous times they had met, so why did the soft smile on her face seem so genuine?

_ “Anyway, _ pizza! I’m starving, what about you?” she spoke suddenly, pulling her phone from her pocket to tap quickly at the screen, “What type of pizza do you want? What size?”

Loki had never eaten pizza and had no idea what to expect, “I’ll have what you have.”

Amelia rose an eyebrow, “Margherita pizza, then?”

Loki gave a dismissive shrug of his shoulders and Amelia eyed him carefully, “You do  _ like _ pizza, right? Cause if you don’t then we can get something else-”

“I’ve never tried it”, Loki interrupted her before taking another sip of his white wine.

“You…” Amelia’s eyes grew wide and Loki wondered what he’d said to incur such a look, “You’ve  _ never tried pizza?” _

Loki wasn’t fond of repeating himself and held the woman’s gaze with his own formidable stare; she seemed to grasp his expression for what it was and gave a little shake of her head, eyes falling back to her phone.

“Whelp. Fair enough. I’ll just get a large Margherita and we can half it. Do you want any sides? Chicken strips, mozzarella sticks? Garlic bread? Oh!”

Loki frowned at her sudden exclamation and she looked up at him with broad eyes as though she’d had an epiphany - though there was a hint of mirth swimming in her brown irises.

“Sorry- no garlic bread for you, right?”

The God of Mischief blinked his eyes in confusion at her question; wondering why she assumed he might’ve had a distaste for it. He looked expectantly at her.

“It’s just, sorry- I heard vampires can’t have garlic, so-” she was already laughing halfway through her quip, making the supposed punchline of her joke far less impactful than she had intended.

“You know”, Loki began with an icy tone, “You’re jest would have sounded far more witty had you delivered it with a straight face.”

“Duly noted, Dracula”, she retorted immediately, snorting as she tried to hide her hilarity. Loki released a deep sigh.

“When will you stop that?” He asked; the vampire jokes did not damage his pride in the slightest, but they were definitely getting old now, to the point where it was just plain annoying.

“When you get some less vampire-y clothes, Nosferatu”, Amelia snickered, wiping the stray tears from her eyes.

Why did Loki put up with this?

* * *

“This looks repulsive.”

Loki eyed the pizza with distaste; the mess of tomato, cheese and basil leaves did not look appetising, especially with the dark, greasy stain on the base of the box betraying just how fatty the food was.

Amelia rolled her eyes, “Don’t go thinking you’re above eating pizza. Try a slice, go on”, she encouraged, nudging the box across the coffee table towards him before biting into her own slice,  _ “Mmm,  _ it’s delicious.”

Loki’s lip curled in disgust, “You eat it with your hands?”

“Look, nobody eats pizza with a knife and fork except for like, royalty, or something.”

“Is that so”, Loki murmured; little did Amelia know that he  _ was  _ royalty and he was in no rush to tarnish his hands with the oily disaster that was the Margherita pizza before him.

But Amelia stared at him with an expectant look, searching his eyes and waiting for him to overcome his hesitance - “Come on, James, it’s just a goddamn slice of pizza. I bet you’re gonna love it.” - and all Loki wanted to do was prove her wrong.

With a noise of displeasure, Loki cautiously picked up a slice, holding it carefully so that it wouldn’t overturn and fall all over his suit, and took a small mouthful.

Amelia stared at him as he chewed it slowly, completely still, holding her breath as she waited for his judgement; her scrutiny of his face was so intense, one would think she was trying to solve a difficult mathematics equation.

_ Oh. Shit. It’s delicious. _

He couldn’t admit that though, not after the fuss he’d made about it.

Loki swallowed the mouthful and shrugged his shoulders without care, “It’s not the worst thing I’ve ever tasted.”

Amelia thrust an accusatory finger in his direction,  _ “You love it!” _ She cried, once again bursting into an overly joyous bout of laughter, a deep smugness to her voice as though she had won something.

“I really wouldn’t go as far as to say I love it-”

_ “You do! It’s your new favourite food!” _

Loki sighed, ignoring the woman as she continued to guffaw with abhorrent volume; he proceeded to devour the slice of pizza and Amelia soon calmed down, eating her own slice silently with a mindless grin on her face.

Amelia only managed one and a half slices in the time it took Loki to eat half of the pizza, and then he snatched up yet another slice.

_ “Hey!” _ Amelia protested, “That’s mine!”

“Too slow”, Loki stated smoothly and Amelia pouted, a faux look of offense on her face; she pulled the pizza box back out of the man’s reach and shuffled into a position in which she appeared ready to pounce if Loki even looked at the remaining slices of pizza in the wrong way.

“If I’d known you were going to like it so much, then I would’ve ordered more than one”, Amelia grumbled; Loki shrugged unapologetically.

Upon finishing the stolen slice, Loki reached for a napkin, wiping the grease from his fingers; something about the way Amelia was curled protectively over her half of the pizza was just utterly amusing, and a smile pulled at his lips against his will.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you read this and enjoy it then PLEASE do comment! It only takes a moment to let me know that you like the story and it makes me happy/more inclined to write more!
> 
> In the next chapter, Loki learns a little more about Amelia and that they may have a few things in common ;)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've edited the tags slightly, just FYI! ;)

Loki did not know how Amelia had managed to rope him into returning to her apartment for the third time in just a couple of weeks. Something about her managed to hold his attention; he found humour in her tipsy quirks and the way she spoke daringly, calling him a vampire or something akin to it at every given chance.

Amelia had begun to yawn, rubbing her eyes every few minutes while insisting sluggishly that she was absolutely not tired at all, and it was at that point Loki realised just how long he had spent in her home. It was nearing half four in the morning by the time he stood and made to leave. The mortal had protested, claiming it was far too freezing to be walking around so early in the morning without a proper coat, and had grabbed the lapel of his jacket between her fingers, as if testing the thickness of the material.

“The cold doesn’t affect me.” He had told her, disengaging her grasp on the fabric of his suit with a gentle but firm hand, and her face had drawn into a slightly crooked grin before she cheekily enquired as to whether all forms of undead were impervious to icy temperatures.

At the palpable roll of his eyes, Amelia had giggled sheepishly before insisting, “You should stay till morning, James, I have a spare room”, and pointed her thumb over her shoulder towards the corridor that led to several other rooms.

Staying as late as he had was bad enough, but staying the entire night would most definitely arouse Stark’s suspicion of him, and then the multi-billionaire would  _ interrogate _ him on his nightly activities, which would do nothing but aggravate him and remind him of his limited freedom on this planet.

Loki had declined her invitation, merely informing her that he needed to return to his residence, without offering a more in-depth explanation, so naturally Amelia had nodded her head and murmured, “Ah, you gotta return home before sunrise, right? I understand, wouldn’t want the sun to burn you to a crisp.”

Remarkably, she hadn’t burst out laughing after her quip, and Loki had started to wonder whether Amelia had actually begun to believe that he  _ was  _ a vampire, given that everything he chose to do seemed to point towards the fact; he chalked it up to the alcohol running through her blood giving her the ability to poke fun at him without falling into hysterics at her own jokes.

Upon returning to Avengers Tower, he had been relieved to find that everyone else was asleep, so he slinked back to his room in the darkness, content that nobody was conscious to confront him on his whereabouts.

He hadn’t accounted for the ever-awake, all-seeing user interface, F.R.I.D.A.Y, which had apparently taken note of the precise second Loki arrived back inside the building, per Stark’s request.

Later that morning as it was approaching lunchtime, Loki had entered the main living quarters to find a large pine tree erected near the wall, illuminated with small twinkling lights in a variety of colours. Tony was at the base of it, clutching several long strips of colourful decoration - tinsel, as Loki now knew it to be called - while Thor stood to one side, staring amusedly at Stark while carrying a box of ornaments.

“What is this?” Loki murmured, eyeing the sparkling lights upon the tree with scrutiny.

“This is  _ Christmas _ , brother.” Thor seemed quite enthused as he spoke, “Midgardians have their own winter festival, complete with decorations, gift-giving and  _ feasts. _ Doesn’t it sound marvellous?”

Before Loki could state how much he did not care about a damned Midgardian festival, Stark interrupted with an unwarranted snark to his tone, “How nice of you to join us, Mr. Night Owl. Did ya have fun last night?”

Loki’s eyes narrowed dangerously on Tony, challenging him to even dare bring up his nightly whereabouts, “That is no concern of yours.”

“Actually it is, you see, you live under  _ my _ roof”, Stark’s voice grew undoubtedly jesting, “and your mother and I are  _ very _ disappointed in you for arriving back at such an  _ ungodly _ hour.”

A low growl rumbled in the back of Loki’s throat as his patience grew thin over Tony’s constant need to spew facetious gags when facing him, “I should’ve killed you when I had the chance”, the God of Mischief hissed in displeasure.

“Loki”, Thor spoke his name in warning, his bright blue eyes narrowed in on the way his brother’s fists clenched resentfully at his sides, though he followed it up with a pointed look at Stark, willing him not to continue his clear provocation.

“The time I spend here is utterly reluctant. Do you think I enjoy having you breathe down my neck constantly?”

Stark shook his head, an artificial smirk on his face as he turned his attention back to the decorated tree beside him, “Perhaps if you began to show even a fragment of remorse from your previous actions…” he began, hanging up a glinting piece of purple tinsel on the green pine, “I would be a little more lenient with you.”

Loki felt his teeth grind together, a dark and penetrating stare emerging from his deep, green gaze,  _ “I will never be sorry.” _

Without allowing the other two occupants of the room a chance to respond, Loki turned swiftly on his feet, making for the exit of the room. He came face to face with Bruce Banner as the bespectacled man rounded the corner and froze, sensing that the air was thick with tension; he shifted his cautious gaze between the three of them, before gently enquiring, “What’s… going on?”

Loki rolled his eyes and pushed past the mild-mannered man, stalking off down the corridor towards his room so he could avoid the idiocy of the Avengers for the remainder of the day.

And so Loki found himself in the elevator of Amelia’s apartment building just a couple of days after his last visit, hopeful for a little quiet company and the possibility of relaxation. He had grown comfortable with Amelia’s presence, far more so than being around any of the Avengers, and the only time he didn’t feel the unwelcome twinge in his shoulder blades was when he was sat across from the mortal woman, partaking in pleasant conversation.

The elevator arrived at the eleventh floor and Loki stepped out; he was about to turn the corner into the hallway that led directly to Amelia’s apartment, but the soft murmur of voices stopped him. Loki frowned, pausing in his step, subconsciously moving closer to the wall as he focused his ears.

“I noticed there was this coffee shop down the street. Maybe we could, y’know, go get breakfast tomorrow or somethin’?”

It was a man’s voice, rough and inarticulate; a wave of irritation breezed over Loki at the fact that someone stood between him and his destination. He chanced a peek around the corner and caught sight of the man, leaning his elbow against the doorframe of Amelia’s apartment, his other hand resting on his hip with his upper body leaning forwards. There was a misshapen smile on his face and his eyes bore heavily into Amelia - who was out of sight, standing a bit too far into her apartment for Loki to see her. The man was youngish, probably only a little older than Amelia herself; he had bedraggled, short brown hair, unkempt scruff around his chin, ungroomed eyebrows and a nose as thin and straight as a shark fin.

But most importantly, he was in the way, and that was a problem.

“Ehh, I’m sorry, I’ve, um, got work tomorrow morning. Uh, maybe some other time…” came Amelia’s response, clipped and tight, and Loki caught the flicker of disappointment on the man’s face before he covered it up with a faux smile and a shrug.

“Alright, fair enough. Another time then…” he trailed off, looking somewhat rigid and uncertain for a moment, before taking a step back, “Anyway, guess I’ll see ya around.”

Loki stepped back behind the corner as the man turned and briefly considered masking his presence with magic, until he heard the sound of a door open and close; he peered guardedly round the corner once more before straightening out, deducing that the man had clearly entered the apartment opposite Amelia’s.

He continued, making his way to Amelia’s now-closed door in several long strides before knocking placidly; after a few seconds, the door opened slowly and the woman peeped through the gap, before swinging the entrance open wide.

“Oh, James- it’s you”, she smiled brightly, quickly stepping aside to welcome him in; Loki walked in and Amelia closed the door behind him with a little more pressure than needed.

With a quirked eyebrow, Loki disinterestedly asked, “Who was that?”

“Hmm?” Amelia hummed, turning her wide gaze on him, “Oh, you… saw him?”

“Obviously.”

Amelia gnawed at her lower lip uncomfortably, “That was my new neighbour. Ethan. Just moved in this morning, apparently.” She seemed uncomfortable, a little taut in her stance which made it clear something was bothering her.

Loki didn’t press for the details on why her new neighbour appeared to set her teeth on edge; it didn’t affect him in the slightest and therefore, he was not interested in learning more. Instead, he glanced down at Amelia, noting the lack of her customary, vivid sweater; today she wore a deep purple, long-sleeved blouse, the colour of which suited her far more than the eyesore clothing she’d worn previously.

“Check out what I got”, Amelia’s face brightened suddenly with a knowing smile as she slid past Loki and into the lounge; Loki followed curiously, pulling subconsciously at the sleeves of his suit jacket - it was a little too uncomfortably warm in the woman’s apartment today.

“Ta-dah!” Amelia giggled, holding up a red-topped, unopened bottle full of dark liquid that she’d plucked from the coffee table, “Red wine, as you requested! Vintage Bordeaux-” she slipped into a smooth, exaggerated French accent as her eyes scanned the white label, “ _ Seductively rich _ , traditionally vinified and aged in oak baroques, lush fruit layered with savoury notes and complexity, balanced tannins-” the accent fell and her face scrunched up confusedly, “...Whatever the hell that means.”

Loki blinked, staring at the bottle she had procured for him; an unfamiliar sentiment bubbling in his chest, “You got this for me?”

Her gaze drew over his face, taking in the incredulity of his raised eyebrows, and she smiled openly, “Yeah, you wanted red wine, right?”

Loki swallowed. It had been a while since someone had been so genuinely considerate to him; he definitely hadn’t expected Amelia to go out of her way to buy red wine just because he had wanted it. “Thank you.” The words felt quite unnatural on his lips and the gratitude he could feel seemed awfully substantial given the simplicity of Amelia’s courtesy. 

“Anytime!” The woman winked, hurrying to retrieve a couple of glasses with a delighted bounce to her step.  
  


* * *

 

The deep crimson liquid was sweet and fruity against his tongue and Loki’s eyes fell shut as he savoured the taste, the beverage inadvertently triggering memories of what was once his home. Asgard. He remembered the last time he had sat with his family to enjoy a feast with little to no worries, nothing but the fresh aroma of meats, cheeses and fruits, and of course - ale, mead and wine.

It had been years ago now, six or seven, he couldn’t quite recall, and a lot had changed since then. Loki was never really one to dwell too hard on the past; he preferred to live in the present. What was the point of thinking about what he would have done differently if there was no way to actually change it? 

But as the wine ran down his throat, he thought of his mother, Frigga, and the way she used to look upon him with pride and marvel, how happy she would be whenever he mastered a new spell, and he wished he could have prevented the fate that befell her.

He thought of his father, Odin, the one who never quite seemed satisfied with Loki’s accomplishments, and who was a direct source for a lot of Loki’s anger. It wasn’t until Odin was about to meet his end, that he finally expressed repentance, reassuring Loki that he was and always had been his son just as much as Thor had.

He thought of his brother, then. His absolute oaf of a brother who was kind and compassionate, strong-willed and intelligent, and - though Loki was loathe to ever admit such a thing out loud - a good king. Loki remembered when his favourite thing in all Nine Realms was to make his brother laugh,  _ or _ make him the victim of one of his ingenious pranks. 

Things were different now. 

“Are you alright?” Amelia’s concern-riddled voice pierced through his haze of reminiscence and he realised he’d been staring into his wine glass for a good long while with a most likely sombre expression on his face.

“I’m fine. The wine is good.” He answered curtly, placing his glass down on the coffee table before he rose to his feet, shedding his suit jacket and laying it across the arm of the couch, “It’s too hot”, he murmured, untucking his shirt and straightening the creases out of it.

He saw Amelia’s eyes drop to his torso, watching the material stretch across his chest, creating slight ripples in the fabric where it pulled at the buttons. Her gaze lingered, and Loki smirked, opening his mouth to make a sly comment about her unabashed leering.

“Your shirt!” She suddenly squeaked, cutting him off before he could speak, and he arched an eyebrow, pressing her to reveal the point in her exclamation.

“You’ve changed it. It’s not black, it’s dark grey.”

Loki blinked in surprise; he had almost forgotten he’d changed the shade of his shirt by an absolutely miniscule amount. He’d done so just to see if Amelia would notice, but the change was so slight that he could hardly perceive it himself.

“I really didn’t think you’d notice.”

“Hah! You can’t fool me, I have the eyes of an eagle!” Amelia snickered, “I can’t believe it, James, you actually do own more than one set of clothes!”

Loki rolled his eyes, bending to pick up his glass; he’d grown tired of sitting on the couch, he needed something to occupy his mind with. He gave the view from the windows a quick glance before turning, striding across the room to the bookcase and cabinets; Amelia looked inquisitively after him as he took particular interest in the collection of novels she owned.

There was quite a few books placed neatly on the shelf, completely void of dust - it seemed Amelia did a good job of keeping everything clean and tidy; Loki scanned the spines of the hardbacks, taking note of the worn edges. He didn’t recognise the names of the authors from any of the books he’d read in Avengers Tower;  _ JRR Tolkien, George R.R. Martin, JK Rowling, Stephen King, C. S. Lewis- _

“Do you like to read?” Amelia’s voice came from directly behind him and he gave her a brief glance over his shoulder.

“Yes, I find it passes the time nicely.”

Amelia tilted her head at his answer, “Uh, okay. What kind of books do you read?”

Loki thought briefly, “...Anything, really.” He had read so many books in his life, a vast majority of Asgard’s extensive library - which had sadly been engulfed in fire - and from them, he had learned so much about the universe.

“Have you read any of these?” she pointed to the shelves,  _ “Lord of the Rings, A Song of Ice and Fire, Harry Potter?” _

“I haven’t.”

Amelia seemed surprised, an amused smile on her face, “It’s rare that I meet someone who hasn’t at least read  _ Harry Potter.” _

Loki’s brow furrowed, “What exactly is so special about  _ Harry Potter?” _

Amelia’s eyebrows rose up and she regarded Loki with a small smile; pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose she spoke matter-of-factly,  _ “Harry Potter _ as a book series sold over four hundred and fifty million copies world wide. That’s pretty special, I think.”

Loki hummed softly in acknowledgement, “So what is it about?”

“You don’t know what it’s about?”

“I’ve never read it.”

“But still! You don’t know anything about it?”

Loki gave an exasperated sigh, “Just tell me what it’s about.”

Amelia shrugged slightly, “Well, in the simplest explanation, a young boy finds out he’s a wizard, goes to a wizard school and learns to do magic. Then he faces a whole load of dark magical forces. It’s great, I’m sure you’d like it”, she paused, “Do you wanna borrow the first book?”

It would certainly be nice to have more reading material, Loki thought. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t interested in learning how humans portrayed the use of magic in fiction; a smile pulled at the corner of his lip. “Alright, I’ll borrow it.”

Amelia grinned, “Oh my God, this is a first - I’ve always wanted to introduce someone to the  _ Harry Potter _ series but literally everybody else in the entire world has already read them, so you can understand why that opportunity doesn’t present itself very often”, she pulled the book from the shelf and pattered over to the coffee table, “I’ll put it here so you don’t forget it.”

Loki’s eyes scanned the rest of the books, “I might have to borrow all of these.”

“Wow, really? That’s a lot of reading”, the woman giggled, “How about you take it one at a time, yeah?”

“That’s what I meant.” Loki shook his head slightly, “So, have you read all of them, then?”

Amelia propped her hands on her hips, puffing her chest up proudly, “I certainly have. I’m quite the bookworm; fantasy fiction is my life! I must’ve read hundreds upon hundreds of books in my lifetime”, she licked her lips, an enigmatic smile on her face, as though that was a superb achievement.

‘Hundreds’ was nothing to Loki. He had read  _ thousands.  _ He smirked as Amelia’s face fell into a pout at his lack of astonishment.

Taking a few steps away from the bookcase, Loki drew his eyes down to the chest of drawers; the surface of which had an array of knick knacks on, from candles to a few small, ceramic sculptures of colourfully dressed winged fairies.

And framed photographs.

“Who is this?” Loki pointed to the photo of Amelia and a man with short and tidy brown hair who had his arm slung around her shoulder, both were smiling widely and Amelia was holding up a peace sign.

Amelia sat back against the couch, raising her head in order to see which photo Loki was pointing at, before she lightly nibbled her lower lip, “Ah, that was my brother. Aaron.”

Looking back to the photo, Loki took in the man’s appearance; he was taller than Amelia by a few inches and wore a sleek pair of rectangular, rimless glasses, framing his slightly squinting blue eyes. He had the same dimples as Amelia either side of his genuine smile but his skin was slightly more tanned than Amelia’s; from the photo alone, Loki could tell they had had a strong sibling relationship.

There was another photo in a wooden frame with intricate patterns carved into the woodwork; the grainy picture showed a chubby, red-faced little girl - Amelia, Loki assumed - sitting on the lap of a woman with long, ashy brown hair and a fair complexion. The unidentified woman held young Amelia close with one arm, holding a book in her other hand, she appeared to be reading aloud.

“Is this your mother?”

Amelia smiled from her spot on the couch, pressing the cool glass in her hand against her rosy face, “Yeah. She’s pretty, huh? That photo was taken by my brother when I was five years old. Mum was thirty-three… but, uh, she passed away when I was eighteen”, she swallowed, her gaze falling to the floor, “...from cancer.”

Loki nodded, taking a small sip of wine; they had a few things in common, Loki realised, Amelia too knew the pain of losing a mother.

He moved on, walking the length of the far wall and peered through one of the open doors, only slightly ajar, which revealed an organised bedroom - blue bedsheets, purple carpet and lime green walls - the colour pallette was  _ all over the place,  _ so it could only have been Amelia’s bedroom.

The door to the room further on was wide open, revealing the guest room Amelia had mentioned before. The room was very plain and not hideously garish, with whites and blues, as well as a little green houseplant sitting on the bedside table.

The final door was closed. Loki reached for the doorknob, giving it an experimental turn to find it locked.

“Don’t go in there.”

Loki spared Amelia a glance to find she was not looking at him; her eyes were down on her glass of whiskey and his view of the back of her head did not reveal her expression, but her shoulders were drawn tense.

“Why?” he questioned. All the other doors were open, allowing ventilation throughout the apartment, but this one was locked tight.

Amelia didn’t offer an explanation, she merely quietly stated, “It’s locked for a reason.”

Loki quirked an eyebrow; he felt annoyingly like he’d just been reprimanded. Well, he supposed he had been snooping around, but she hadn’t said anything before that point that suggested she found his nosiness impertinent. 

He released the doorknob, oddly intrigued, but respectful of her wishes.

Maybe another time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As Christmas is coming up on Monday, I'm not sure about when I'll be able to post the next chapter - it MAY be mid-next week, depending on whether or not my manager ropes me into working extra hours, but if not, I'm definitely planning on updating before the turn of the new year! 
> 
> Happy holidays everybody! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I'm excited to read your comments, as usual! They make me so fired up and inspired! ;D


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slightly strange warning giving how long the books have been out but SPOILERS FOR HARRY POTTER AND THE HALF-BLOOD PRINCE, as there is a brief discussion of the series near the end of the chapter.

It became a regular occurence; Loki spent two or three nights a week at Amelia’s apartment, often leaving around three o’clock the next morning. He’d stay for a drink and  _ occasionally _ dinner, and successfully avoided arousing Stark’s suspicions - at least, the billionaire didn’t voice his distrust aloud - and Loki pretended not to notice the wary glances that Stark probably thought were subtle.

It was gradual, but after a few more visits, Loki caught himself looking forward to the next time he could spend an evening with Amelia and find out more about her; her past, her convictions, her hobbies, her sporadic moments of cleverness - though they were few and far between - it seemed everything she told him about herself held an ounce of intrigue. She was a little wrapped up mystery that he felt compelled to unravel and elucidate - at least, that’s what he told himself.

“James!” her ever squeaky and cheerful voice greeted him as he entered her apartment. He had grown accustomed to the shrill sound of Amelia’s excitement, it did not bother him as much as it had the first few times he heard it. 

“Amelia”, he spoke her name in acknowledgement, and the shine in her eyes became even more vivid,

The woman was once again dressed in flamboyant colours and offered him the brightest of smiles, her pearly white teeth gleaming in the light of the hallway.

“I’ve put my tree up!” She exclaimed, quickly stepping into the lounge, “Come and see!”

“What?” Loki’s brow furrowed as he followed, and resisted the urge to groan at the unmistakable sight of what could only be Amelia’s  _ Christmas tree _ sitting in the corner of the room, alight with sparkling blue twinkles.

“You too.” He surmised, a curl of disdain pulling at the corner of his mouth. First the Avengers, and now the mortal woman.

Amelia pouted at the way he turned his nose up at the tree, “What, you don’t like it?”

No, he really didn’t like it. The incessant flashing of the little lights was the perfect recipe for a headache; seriously, who appreciated the ceaseless flickering in the peripheral of their vision all day long?

“This is too jovial for me”, Loki stated monotonously, and Amelia bit her lip to hide a grin.

“Okay, so you’re a complete Grinch then?”

“What did you just call me?” Loki attempted to sound menacing, cocking his head slightly with offended confusion at the unfamiliar word Amelia had spoken. He couldn’t extrapolate whether this  _ ‘Grinch’ _ was a reference he wasn’t aware of, or whether the woman had just insulted him with some form of slang.

His threatening tone did nothing to unnerve Amelia, naturally, and she regarded him with amusement.

“The Grinch. You know, Dr. Seuss?” At Loki’s blank expression, Amelia frowned, “Jesus  _ Christ _ , did you have a childhood?  _ How The Grinch Stole Christmas _ was my favourite story as a kid.”

Loki still wasn’t sure what exactly a ‘Grinch’ was supposed to be. “I do not celebrate your  _ Christmas _ holiday.”

Amelia’s face slackened into a more understanding expression, “Oh, right. I guess it makes sense you never heard of the Grinch then…” 

The lights of the tree cycled into a different series of flickering patterns and Loki breathed a sigh, turning his head fully towards the new festive addition to the living room to properly observe its  phosphorescent appearance. The tree was a spruce, much smaller than the pine at Avengers Tower, and far more modest as well. The needles covering each pointing branch were a pleasant dark green in colour, and the soft, accompanying glow of the blue lights only added to the wintery feeling of it all.

There were only a few shiny baubles hanging from the tree, unlike Stark’s tree, which had been practically obliterated with ornaments that there was hardly any tree left to show, and at the very top, there sat a silver star.

Amelia had placed tinsel in some tasteful areas of the room - along the hooks hanging from below the bar, around the smaller windows on the right hand wall, lining the bookcase and over the chest of drawers. There were also a few scented candles spaced around, giving off the moderate aromas of cinnamon and ginger spice.

“What is this festival about, anyway?” Loki attempted to seem indifferent, but there was no denying he was curious about it and what exactly Christmas entailed. He sat down upon the sofa as Amelia brought him a glass of red wine - he hadn’t even needed to ask, and the woman sat down across from him, making herself cosy in a cross-legged position.

“Uh, well, that’s a pretty vague question. Christmas means different things to different people. It’s a Christian religious holiday originally, celebrating the birth of Jesus Christ… but I don’t believe in that stuff”, she shrugged her shoulders and Loki’s eyebrows knitted together.

“Then why celebrate it?”

Amelia smiled as Loki sipped his wine, “Well, like I said, it means different things to different people. My grandparents on my mother’s side were Christian, so my mother always celebrated it, and thus, so did my brother and I, but it was never about religion for me. I just liked the presents and the smiles and the togetherness.”

Loki hummed, looking back to the effervescent tree, “But what do you do for Christmas?” And what part did the tree play in all this?

“Well, it’s a day where families and friends come together and give each other presents, spend time with each other, and then eat a delicious Christmas dinner at the end of the day”, Amelia grinned, “The food is always great. Probably my favourite part, in fact. Hey-”

Loki glanced up at her as she gave him a curious look and asked him, “What holiday do you celebrate?”

The first thing that came to Loki’s mind was the winter festival that Asgardians celebrated, Yuletide. Now that he thought about it, Christmas seemed to have several things in common with the holiday of his own people. Gift-giving and a great feast, specifically, were apparently mutual traditions.

A smile pulled at the corner of Loki’s lips as a fond memory drifted into his mind of a Yuletide long past - to a time when he and his brother were young and without worries. Loki always gave Thor a gift each year, a wide and innocent smile on his face as he handed over a box of trickery and mischief with the intent to cause his brother distress, which Loki found endlessly amusing, or a small but violent animal that would spring from its containment and scratch at Thor’s face. Even after so many times, Loki couldn’t believe that his brother always fell for it.

Loki always took such joy in playing pranks on his brother; it was truly a self-indulgent past time that he wished replicate at least once more.

Would he fall for such a thing now?  _ Probably not, _ Loki thought. Thor had already called him out on becoming predictable before. Maybe it was time to do something completely unpredictable - what was the last thing Thor would expect from Loki?

“James?” Amelia’s concern-laden voice pierced through his musings and Loki blinked, a flicker of confusion in his green eyes. What had Amelia asked him?

“I said, what holiday do you celebrate?” She repeated her question at the uncertainty in his eyes and Loki shook his head, taking another sip of the sweet red liquid in his wine glass.

“Nothing.” He answered her softly; his brow furrowing irritably. He had been thinking of the past again, thinking of how things used to be - he knew not why these thoughts continued to pester at his mind, reminding him constantly that things had changed and they could never go back to how they had been. What was it about Amelia made him vulnerable to such thoughts? He’d never before been one to think about the things he missed.

“Nothing? What do you mean? Everyone celebrates something, right?” Amelia’s lips pressed together in a pout, “What kind of family do you come from, James?”

“That is none of your business!” Loki snapped tersely, teeth grinding together over the fact that Amelia thought she had a right to pry about the private matters of his family; he didn’t know exactly what had triggered his temper to rise, but it must’ve had something to do with his intrusive thoughts regarding his childhood.

Amelia’s mouth had snapped shut following his small outburst, a momentary look of unease on her face, before she averted her gaze nervously, “Oh, uh, I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to- I didn’t mean… sorry.”

Loki pursed his lips, glaring down at his almost empty wine glass as Amelia murmured apologies in a soft and purposefully mollifying tone. Loki remained silent as the woman trailed off, and he drank the rest of his wine and breathed a sigh, until after a moment he felt Amelia’s hardened gaze staring him directly in the face.

“Actually no, I’m not sorry”, Amelia grumbled, and Loki’s eyebrows rose up in surprise at her sudden switch in attitude, “I was just curious. I didn’t mean any harm by asking; you could’ve just said you didn’t want to talk about it”, she reproached, before quietly adding under her breath, “You don’t have to be such an asshole.”

Loki blinked; it seemed Amelia  _ did  _ have a backbone after all. He had been ready to roll his eyes at her timid display just a few moments prior, but she’d taken it all back in an instant, instead standing up to him. 

Amelia crossed her arms, her expression stern. “Say you’re sorry.”

“What?” She’d caught him off guard with her demand; what did  _ he  _ have to be sorry for?

“Apologise for raising your voice! It was uncalled for.”

Incredulously, Loki retorted, “You were the one prying into  _ my  _ personal matters!”

“I was not prying!” Amelia snapped defensively, rising up to stand, “I asked you an innocent question - how was I supposed to know it’d hit a sore spot? It would’ve been prying if I’d tried to ask again  _ after _ you said it was none of my business, but I didn’t.”

An uncomfortable silence fell and Loki raised his glass to take another sip of his wine to perhaps lessen the tension, before he realised that he’d already finished his drink, and let out a soft growl of dismay. He tapped his fingers against the glass insistently, very aware of Amelia looming over him, patiently waiting for two words to leave his mouth.

Annoyingly, she had a point. He may have overreacted.

An exasperated sigh breezed past Loki’s lips, “My apologies.” It was far from heartfelt or sincere, but if it shut the woman up, then whatever.

And just like that, the uneasy tension lifted; the change was immediate, and Amelia’s expression grew soft and smiley. 

“Apology accepted. Would you like another drink?”

Loki’s lips parted at the abruptness of it all, and after a moment he wordlessly nodded his head, completely thrown by the mystery of how Amelia’s brain worked through her unremitting changes of emotion.

* * *

 

Amelia was quite tipsy. That much was obvious.

In her defense, it had taken a few hours - and a fair few drinks - for Amelia to begin to show signs of being tipsy. It was almost two o’clock in the morning and the woman spoke animatedly about something that had happened at the florist she worked at the previous day - something about a customer who had come into the shop looking for a bouquet of flowers for his fiance’s birthday. There wasn’t much point to the story, Amelia merely kept squeaking about how adorably enthusiastic the young man had been, wishing to buy the brightest and biggest arrangement of flowers, and that she couldn’t stop gushing over how lovely she thought it was that a man would buy flowers for the woman he loved.

“Is it not commonplace for a man to buy flowers for the woman he is courting?” Loki asked dully as he nursed his fifth glass of wine - which, for the record, had had little effect on his clear mind.

Amelia spoke as though it was extraordinary for a man to present his lover with flowers.

“Wha?” Amelia cocked her head to the side, an eyebrow shooting up at the way he spoke, “Well, that always used to be the way. In romantic literature, specifically, men would always buy their wives or girlfriends big bouquets of roses -  _ roses are symbolistic of love, beauty and respect, by the way  _ \- and I always thought it was wonderfully romantic, but-” she paused and let out a wistful sigh, “Surprisingly, I don’t get many young guys coming in to buy flowers for their partners. It’s always elderly men buying roses for their wives - which is lovely - but I feel like it’s becoming less and less typical with newer generations.”

“Tch”, Loki tutted, “Whatever happened to chivalry on this planet?” His question was rhetorical, and he watched as Amelia bit her lip to try and suppress a smile, but ultimately failed as she burst into hushed giggles.

“What’s so funny?” Loki enquired, one eyebrow raised.

“You’re weird”, she giggled in return, “But, like, intriguing.” Loki tilted his head, slightly offended by her words, and Amelia snickered, quickly amending her statement with, “I didn’t mean in a bad way!”

Loki scoffed, pressing the wine glass in his hand against his lips, “Well, the feeling is mutual.”

“Really? You find me intriguing too?”

“No, I meant I find you weird.”

“Hey!” Loki failed to conceal a smile at the indignance in her voice, which suggested she felt insulted by his words - but the lopsided grin on her face indicated otherwise.

“You have no redeeming qualities”, Loki continued, “You’re just weird.” This time Amelia shrugged, biting her lower lip sheepishly.

“Okay, getting a bit too real there.” Instead of protesting to defend herself, she nodded along as if in agreement with Loki’s statement and he narrowed his gaze on her, curious as to whether all humans were so self-deprecating.

Amelia took another sip of her drink, the mirth on her face lesser now and Loki rolled his eyes, “Alright, I find you a little interesting, I suppose”, he admitted, and he wasn’t entirely sure why he confessed that. It was true, there was some intrigue surrounding her that Loki had become drawn to, but it was unlike him to disclose such a thing, especially just to make a human feel better about themselves.

The woman seemed surprised too, her shoulders shaking with amusement as she was unable to laugh aloud with a mouthful of alcohol; she swallowed, brushing a few stray drops of liquid from her lips with her thumb as she looked up at Loki in mock hopefulness,  _ “Wow!  _ Ya mean it?”

Loki cleared his throat, “In the same way a cat finds a mouse interesting”, he clarified off-handedly, quickly amending the goodwill of his previous statement; he raised his glass to his lips.

“Oh, so you’re saying you wanna play with me?” The words left Amelia’s mouth before she could properly think them through, accompanied with an unmistakably flirtatious tone and a kittenish quality to her voice. Loki’s eyes slipped closed for a moment at the implication of her words. Oh, she was definitely quite tipsy.

Five seconds of silence passed before Amelia began to sputter with embarrassment, her hand covering her mouth as she tried to backtrack her words while a distinct rosiness settled into her cheeks.

“Ah, sorry, I- didn’t mean it like that. I’m just- being silly. Ignore me.” The words tumbled out of her mouth as she ran her hand over her face, trying to simultaneously cover it up and rub away the bashfulness.

The corner of Loki’s mouth quirked upwards in a smile, finding humour in Amelia’s demure reaction to her surprisingly forward, playful comment. Loki didn’t really care that she’d tried to flirt with him, whether it was intentional or not, but he found her shy mannerisms confusing. Humans were so ashamed and private when it came to sexuality - where was the logic in Amelia’s ability to be so easily humiliated over something as trivial as one harmless, provocative remark.

_ “Anyway”, _ Amelia rushed to steer the topic in a different direction following Loki’s extended silence, “Um, uh - how are you enjoying those  _ Harry Potter  _ books?”

Loki chuckled softly at her attempt to draw attention away from her slightly drunken toying; he had read the first book in the series when he had returned to the Avengers Tower on the same night, and insisted on borrowing the other six the next time he’d visited Amelia. He had finished the sixth book just before he’d left for Amelia’s apartment.

“They are…  _ alright,  _ I suppose”, he answered with a shrug, “A little predictable, however.”

“Predictable? In what way?” Amelia enquired, shuffling till she was knelt on the couch, leaning forward with interest.

“Well,  _ The Half-Blood Prince  _ ends with Snape killing Dumbledore. Obviously it wants you to think Snape is on the side of the Death Eaters”, he paused to smirk, “I don’t buy into that.”

“Whoa, hold up, you’ve already read up to the sixth book? You’ve only had them a couple of days!” Amelia blinked in surprise.

“I am not a slow reader”, Loki explained.

“Clearly!” Amelia laughed, “So you think that despite killing off Dumbledore, Professor Snape has no part in the plans of the evil Lord Voldemort?” She lowered her head to sip from her glass but peered up at Loki from below her eyebrows, watching him carefully.

“I’ve read many books in my lifetime. I’m not swayed by poor attempts to paint a character in a bad light when I’ve already made up my mind about them. The series is obviously building to a reveal that Snape is and always was on the  _ good _ side.”

Amelia licked her lips and shrugged slightly, “Guess you’ll find out in the last book, huh?”

Loki smirked, “Guess I will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been getting so many lovely comments on this fic and it warms my heart and makes me so happy! Thank you so much to everyone who has taken a moment to leave a lovely comment, and if you enjoy this chapter then please do so again - the more feedback I get, the better set I am to write the next chapter! ;)
> 
> PS: Since I won't update again before the end of 2017, HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE! I hope 2018 begins happily and treats you well!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki and Amelia run in to a spot of trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLY CRAP GUYS! I got WAY inspired for this chapter - and since I couldn't find a good place to separate this chapter in two, it's essentially double the length of the previous ones! So here you are, a super special LONG chapter in which a little progress is made in Loki's and Amelia's growing relationship.
> 
> P.S: I updated the tags again :)

 

There was a slightly smug step to Loki’s stride as he walked out of the elevator onto the eleventh floor of Amelia’s apartment building, carrying the bag full of borrowed  _ Harry Potter  _ books that he had finished reading. 

He had been right. Snape was a good guy all along.  _ So predictable _ .

Loki rapped his knuckles against Amelia’s door in the same series of knocks he always did - three sharp taps, the sound of excitable footsteps approaching from the opposite side, and then the woman’s squeaky exclamation of  _ ‘James!’  _ at the sight of him, like he’d grown to expect.

Except when she opened the door that evening, there had been no preceding excitable footsteps, nor did she greet him with her usual bright grin or loud squeaky voice.

“Uh, hey”, her voice wavered as she welcomed him, standing aside to motion into the room, giving Loki a very brief, feigned smile that crumbled off her face in an instant. Loki didn’t take his scrutinising gaze off of her as he entered or as she closed the door behind him; Amelia didn’t say anything, facing him nervously as she nibbled on her lower lip and fidgeted with her fingers and the frayed sleeve of her blue sweater.

“What’s the matter?” Loki asked after what felt like an eternity, having grown immediately weary of waiting for her to clarify the reason for her unenthusiastic mood when she clearly wasn’t going to explain herself unprompted.

Amelia released a sigh, forcing another smile onto her face, “I’m sorry”, she murmured, “I, uh- something happened today that freaked me out a bit and I’m still feeling uneasy…” Her face scrunched up, her eyebrows furrowed with deep-seated worry as she reached up and brushed a hand through her short hair, scratching slightly at the base of her neck.

“What happened?” Loki asked warily after a moment, watching her closely to observe her jittery body language.

“Um, there were- two men… in my apartment… earlier today.” Her vague statement only brought up more questions and Loki blinked rapidly for a moment, raising his eyebrows expectantly for more information.

“Two men. People you know?” Loki enquired, feeling almost like he was talking to a child with how he had to push for details instead of being told everything at once.

“No…”

Loki raised a hand slightly, shaking his head incredulously at how uncooperative Amelia was, “You’re going to have to give me a little more than that.”

Amelia looked a little put off, her gaze falling momentarily to the floor, seeming like she’d rather not talk about it. “Well, they- they knocked on the door just after lunchtime and they were, like, um-” she made a slight noise of frustration at her inability to articulate, “They were wearing suits and had sunglasses on and they showed me badges- like they were from the FBI or something! They said they wanted to have a look around…” she trailed off weakly, wringing her hands. Everything about her radiated discomfort.

Loki had stilled part-way through her recount,  _ “Were _ they FBI?” he asked delicately, and Amelia shrugged half-heartedly, looking entirely uncertain. “You don’t know?” he pressed, quirking one eyebrow, an accusatory edge to his voice.

“I didn’t really get a good look at their badges…” Amelia admitted sheepishly and Loki couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the woman’s idiocy.

“So two strange men knocked on your door and instead of telling them to leave, you invited them in,  _ despite _ not knowing whether they could actually be trusted?” Loki clarified, pinning the woman with a look of disbelief.

Amelia swallowed, crossing her arms and sinking in on herself under Loki’s harsh gaze, “It wasn’t exactly that simple-”

“You’re an absolute fool”, Loki hissed, dropping the bag of books down by the couch, glaring back at the woman with unsubtle disapproval.

“Why are you yelling at me!?” Amelia snapped, her voice cracking a little as she valiantly tried to hide her quivering lip by gnawing at it with her teeth.

“I’m not yelling at you”, Loki continued, his voice far from soft-spoken, though he tried to keep it level.

“Well, why do you care so much?” Amelia grumbled, arms motioning wildly as she struggled to hold his intense stare.

Because, Loki thought, they were likely S.H.I.E.L.D agents checking in on her per Stark’s request due to Loki’s excessive presence in her home. 

He felt his teeth grind together in annoyance, wishing for once that  _ he _ was the God of Thunder so he could strike Stark down with a deadly bolt of lightning and put an end to his constant distrust. 

Knowing Stark, he probably had the apartment bugged; Loki looked cautiously at the surroundings - nothing looked out of place, but then again, S.H.I.E.L.D agents weren’t known for being obvious. He couldn’t shake the niggling feeling that the two of them were being watched and listened to at that exact moment.

Loki took two long strides towards Amelia, dipping his head and lowering his voice - the movement elicited an odd look from the woman - “Did you take your eyes off of them at any point?”

Amelia swallowed, her gaze flickering between each of his eyes, a little taken aback at his sudden change of demeanour, “Um, I- yeah, I kinda stayed away from them…” she admitted softly, her voice falling as quiet as his own.

Loki breathed an inaudible sigh, giving the room another guarded glance; it was entirely possible, then, that the men had placed unnoticeable cameras or microphones around the room. His eyes fell to Amelia’s clothes.

“Were you wearing these clothes when they came?”

Amelia’s face scrunched up in confusion, “Okay, firstly, what the fuck do my clothes have to do with anything? And secondly, why are we whispering?”

“Just answer my question”, Loki responded impatiently.

“Yeah, I was wearing these”, she murmured, frowning up at him.

“And did they touch you?” the God of Mischief asked her. If they had, then it would’ve been likely they’d bugged her clothes too; but Amelia shook her head and Loki nodded with relief, “Good. Let’s go out tonight.”

His words surprised himself; he’d been about ready to storm back to Avengers Tower and demand answers from Stark right at that moment, but there was this lingering feeling - he still wanted Amelia’s company, he’d been  _ looking forward _ to it. Staying in a potentially bugged apartment for the evening wasn’t on his to-do list, however, so instead, he decided the next best thing would be to take a walk.

Amelia blinked rapidly at his suggestion, “Wait, what? Why? Where?” her voice was still quiet as she rushed him with a multitude of one-word questions, to which Loki rolled his eyes at.

“Just out, anywhere, it doesn’t matter.” He replied curtly with a ghost of a shrug, grabbing her wrist without another moment to lead her back towards the front door.

“Wait, wait!” Amelia squeaked, resisting. “Can we… go to the cemetery? I want to place some more flowers on my brother’s grave.”

Loki regarded her with a brief look before nodding, “Yes, whatever.”

Amelia pulled away from him, making her way over to the table to grab the bouquet that had been lying atop the surface unnoticed by Loki until that moment; he narrowed his gaze suspiciously at the sprig of lilies swathed in clear plastic wrapping. 

Would the agents bug a bouquet of lilies? Eh, probably not.

Then Amelia reached for her coat and Loki intercepted, grabbing her arm before she could reach the coat-rack by the door, because he didn’t trust the piece of clothing to be free of any miniature recording devices.

“What are you doing, James?” Amelia cried as Loki practically dragged her out of the front door, “I need my coat, it’s freezing outside!”

“No, no you don’t. It’s fine, you’ll be fine”, Loki insisted, shutting the door behind them and urging Amelia down the hallway towards the elevator.

“Um, maybe for a vampire like you, but I actually  _ can _ freeze to death, believe it or not”, she grumbled impertinently, shooting the man a dirty look.

“You can wear my suit jacket”, Loki growled, abruptly putting an end to Amelia’s protests; he shed the article of clothing as they waited for the lift to reach their floor and Amelia shyly, and clumsily, pulled the jacket on one arm at a time, balancing the bouquet as she did so. She murmured a soft ‘thanks’ as the elevator doors pinged open.

Loki let out a sigh as he pressed the button for the ground floor and eyed the closing doors, feeling the burning stare of Amelia beside him; the woman was clearly still reeling from his odd behaviour and insistence that they leave the apartment.

A thought occurred; “Did those men look around every room?"

“Well, yeah…” Amelia murmured, shrugging slightly, pressing her face closer into the sprig of lilies to breathe in their comforting scent.

“Even the locked room?” Loki quirked an inquisitive eyebrow. Amelia had been so adamant that he leave that room alone; he’d brought it up just once since she’d gently reprimanded him for attempting to enter, and she’d fought to change the subject immediately. She’d caught him glancing back to the door a few times, and every time her lips had drawn straight, pursed; she’d pretended not to notice his curiosity.

“No”, Amelia answered after a moment, her voice suddenly low and guarded, “They asked me to unlock it. That’s when I told them to get fucked.”

A smirk pulled at Loki’s lips, “And?”

“And they did.”

Loki nodded; a hint of satisfaction welling inside of him knowing that Amelia didn’t completely allow the S.H.I.E.L.D agents to just walk all over her - he supposed Stark might’ve found that a little frustrating, and that thought was pleasing.

The lift doors opened moments later once they reached the ground floor, and Loki’s jaw clenched. Before them stood Amelia’s unkempt neighbour, whose name escaped Loki, and the man’s eyes flickered over the woman clutching the lily bouquet.

“Oh, hey Amelia”, her neighbour greeted her with a crooked smile, “You’re goin’ out pretty late.” There was an upwards inflection towards the end of his statement that made it sound more like a question, and Amelia gave him a very nervous smile that held anything but friendliness.

“Hey, Ethan… yep, just… going out…” Amelia stammered awkwardly, before moving to shift past the scruffy man. Loki caught the way  _ Ethan’s _ eyes darted over Amelia’s shoulders, eyeing the jacket - and then back to Loki himself with a hint of suspicion, but thankfully not recognition.

Ah, Loki realised, Ethan was making silent assumptions in his mind, which all humans seemed to be fond of doing; the way Ethan’s hazel eyes narrowed on Loki could only indicate jealousy, that he thought there was something going on between the two of them simply because Loki had lent her his suit jacket.

Humans were so  _ funny. _

Loki raised his eyebrows as he passed by the man, following after Amelia, giving Ethan an almost complacent look, simply because he knew it would agitate the man to a degree - and because Amelia clearly didn’t like the man very much.

* * *

It had been forty-five days since Loki had stood in the exact spot he stood now, arms crossed and waiting while Amelia knelt silently by her brother’s grave; she had removed the wilted lilies and placed down a fresh sprig, positioning them gently against the head stone. She didn’t shed any tears this time, but her eyes were glossy, suggesting it wouldn’t take much to push her over the edge.

Amelia ran a hand through her short hair, making it stick out slightly at an odd angle, and pushed her glasses further up her nose; she sniffed and then sighed, rising to stand again while she cast a doleful glance towards the grave.

“He helped a lot of people”, Amelia murmured softly, “He was always interested in helping people - that’s why he went to medical school and became a surgeon.” She smiled softly, but her lips quickly fell into a frown again, the pleasant memory of her brother not lingering long enough in her mind, “It wasn’t fair, what happened to him.”

Loki gazed over the woman’s pale face, her rosy cheeks standing out a little more in the moonlight illumination; he was somewhat torn between wanting to know more about what happened to her brother and not wanting to bring up painful memories lest she cry again - it would just make him feel awkward.

“I wasn’t even here when it happened”, Amelia continued without persuasion, “I was visiting a friend in New Jersey when I got the call. They needed me to... identify his body-” she cut off with a stammer, her mouth snapping shut. She blinked rapidly for a moment, trying to dispel the tears in her eyes.

She didn’t speak for a while, trying to put a damper on her emotions; she pulled the jacket tighter around herself, crossing her arms to keep the cold away. A mirthless smile appeared on her face before she let out a humourless laugh, “I’m sorry, I just- I’ve never really talked about this stuff to anyone.”

Loki remained quiet; unsure of what to do with his hands, he kept them at his sides and absently tapped against the material of his trousers. He really wasn’t cut out for consoling people.

Another long pause, and then Amelia whispered, “He didn’t even die from the impact. He was alive for two whole days after it happened, in a coma; he hadn’t been returning my calls or texts, which was unlike him, and I was already terrified something bad had happened to him.” She turned her face away so that Loki could only see the back of her head, but he strongly suspected the tears in her eyes had finally fallen.

“I wish I’d been home. I would’ve found out much earlier, or maybe I could’ve… stopped him from leaving the house that morning. I don’t know, I…” She trailed off and inhaled a shuddering breath.

Loki grinded his teeth together, trying to think of a way to steer the situation back to a level he was comfortable with. What would Thor do? How would Thor comfort someone who was mourning. A hug? Ugh, he wasn’t going to hug a mortal.

He breathed in the crisp air of the cold cemetery and sighed, raising a hand reluctantly, and placed it firmly on Amelia’s shoulder, throwing in a slight squeeze for good measure. Amelia seemed to grow still at the contact, as if worried that any minuscule movement would cause him to pull back, and very slowly she turned her head back, dropping her gaze to her shoulder.

Amelia’s cheeks were wet, her eyes slightly puffy as she reached up with her own hand to cover Loki’s; his eyes narrowed slightly as Amelia gave him a tiny smile.

“Your hands are cold.”

Her hand was warm in comparison to his.

“I know.” Loki retracted, stepping away from Amelia and back onto the path adjacent to the grave, “Let’s go back.”

Amelia nodded, quietly following after him.

* * *

Loki did not mind the cold weather; his Jotun heritage granted him immunity to biting temperatures, and thus he felt utterly comfortable having lent Amelia his jacket. Even the moderate breeze trailing through the streets of Manhattan did not faze him, and he continued to saunter along beside Amelia at her snail-like pace without showing any semblance of the shivers.

Amelia ambled along, slowed by the wind and the chill in the air, hugging herself with her body drawn in tight; her flushed cheeks were just about the only part of her face that still held colour as her lips had began to grow pale.

Loki came to a halt at the opening of a back alley that was lodged between two buildings; he could see from where he stood that the passage led to a road that was just a few blocks from Amelia’s apartment building. They could pass through quickly and get back to Amelia’s home sooner.

Then why, oh why, did Amelia continue to meander down the street away from the alley, presumably intending to walk around the buildings rather than between them.

“Amelia”, Loki spoke, “this way is faster.”

The woman several strides ahead stopped, turning to Loki with wide eyes; she blinked a few times, looking between the alley and the man before her, until she quirked an eyebrow and replied, “You wanna go through a shady back alley at midnight in the middle of Manhattan?”

“What’s the problem?”

“It’s dangerous, James!” Her exclamation was accompanied with a wavering tone thanks to her body’s trembling in response to the temperature.

Loki gave a short, amused exhale, “The first time we met, you were standing in the middle of a graveyard at three in the morning.” The quipping tone of his voice brought a pout to the woman’s face as she shifted from foot to foot.

Amelia had the decency to look sheepish, “Yeah, well, I’ve wised up since then.”

“I find that hard to believe”, Loki murmured under his voice before addressing Amelia with a more authoritative tone, “Come on, it’s fine.” He punctuated his words with a wave of his hand, urging her to rethink her route; he motioned the alley and looked expectantly at her.

Amelia was still for another few moments before she let out a sigh, the visible puff of breath leaving her mouth and momentarily fogging up her glasses; she relented, pulling the jacket tighter around herself, and made her way cautiously into the dark passage with Loki right behind her.

The pavement below was slightly uneven and the path was bathed in darkness; the soft, yellow glow of the streetlamp light was unable to reach the deepest part of the alley and Amelia walked stiffly, worried she might misstep and send herself flailing to the hard ground.

Loki silently curbed the rising exasperation he felt over the night’s events; all he had wanted was to convene like usual and partake in some light conversation while imbibing a fine glass or two or red wine, but no,  _ of course _ Stark had to go and ruin that by sending Amelia some unwanted company. Now he just wanted to return to the tower and give Amelia some time to get over her returning grief so that he wouldn’t have to spend his time  _ attempting  _ to comfort her again.

“Hey-”

Amelia froze and Loki looked up at the unfamiliar voice, noticing the crossway in the middle of the alley for the first time; the greeting had emerged from the corner as they passed, from the mouth of a young-ish man that Loki could only describe as badly-dressed and odious. 

Loki was forced to standstill given that Amelia seemed to have lost the ability to continue walking and he rolled his eyes as he looked upon the straggly misfit who had demanded their attention. The man had stepped away from the wall he’d been leaning against, and behind him Loki caught sight of three other men, all in various clothes that you might associate with young offenders, hanging around a dumpster.

The man that caught their attention carried a wooden baseball bat in his hands and drifted slowly towards them, his eyes dragging over Amelia briefly before shifting to Loki; he smiled menacingly, revealing his disgusting teeth which were almost the same shade of yellow as his hair.

“Give me all your money.”

His Brooklyn accent was thick and his words were barely comprehensible, but Loki had already grasped the situation long before that moment; he stared the man down, waiting to see how Amelia would react before taking matters into his own hands.

Amelia was undeniably petrified; her hands shook, not from the cold weather but from a whole different reason entirely, and after a moment she patted against the pockets of her jeans and swallowed thickly.

“I don’t have any money with me”, she stammered, “I- I have… my phone…”

The blond man tightened his grip on the bat, running his tongue over his teeth as he let out a breathy laugh, “Well that’ll have to do, won’t it love?”

Amelia’s lip quivered fearfully and she reached into her pocket, pulling out her phone, sparing Loki a panicked glance as she did so; her eyebrow twitched in response when he subtly shook his head, advising her not to hand over her phone - but she clearly did not believe this was an easily escapable situation, and shakily held her phone up.

“And that watch too”, the miscreant instructed, nodding towards her wrist where her gold watch was peeking out from below the jacket sleeve.

Immediately, Amelia pulled back, subconsciously tugging on the sleeve to try and hide it, despite the fact the mugger had already seen it, “No, not that-”

“Hand it over”, he snapped forcefully, and Amelia shook her head, a pleading expression on her face.

“Please, anything but that-”

_ “I won’t ask again”,  _ the blond man hissed, raising the bat in a more threatening manner,  _ “Give it to me or I’ll bash your brains in.”  _ The other three men stepped up to join the leader of their little gang.

Amelia made a quiet noise of distress and Loki watched her eyes grow glossy as she fought the tremors in her hands to reluctantly unclasp the cracked watch from her wrist; she hesitantly held it out, completely unwilling to part with it.

Before the blond man could snatch the valuables from Amelia’s palm, Loki intervened, closing his hand gently around her wrist to pull it back out of the mugger’s reach. A noise of confusion left Amelia’s mouth in the form of a whimper; she looked up at Loki with her wide, questioning gaze as he calmly guided her back and stepped in front of her.

“What the fuck d’you think you’re doing?” the blond man sneered, rearing back, “I fucking warned you!” The weapon was swung with vigour.

A loud  _ thwack  _ reverberated throughout the alley, softly followed by Amelia’s sharp intake of breath; Loki held the barrel of the bat firmly in his hand, having caught it mid-swing, his dark gaze drilling holes into the blond man’s face.

If not for his current standing with the Avengers, he would’ve snapped the mugger’s neck in a heartbeat; if not for Amelia’s presence behind him, Loki would’ve conjured daggers and shredded the men before him until the alley was painted red with their insides.

Killing them would do Loki no favours, even if the wretches deserved it, but he would still take great pleasure with incapacitating each and every one of them with no mercy. 

“The fuck”, the blond man whispered, stunned that his strike had been effortlessly blocked.

As quick as a flash and with substantial grace, Loki kicked the man hard in the chest, propelling him back a fair distance; the blond slammed into the ground, gasping for breath from having the wind knocked out of him and Loki tossed the bat up, catching it by the handle. 

Before the other men had even gathered their wits, Loki slammed the bat hard against the second guy’s leg, sending him to the concrete with a howl of pain; the third man charged him rather foolishly and Loki sidestepped with keen agility, dropping the bat to grab the offender by his hoodie before swinging him round to slam him hard, head first into the brick wall.

Silently, Loki turned to the final man standing, who had backed up, cowering against the dumpster with his hands up in surrender; the God of Mischief took a step in his direction, delighting in the way the young man’s hands shook with each looming step.

Suddenly, a hand closed around Loki’s ankle and his attention was drawn down to the blond man on the ground who had ceased sputtering for breath and instead, rather pathetically, attempted to trip him up. An amused, teeth-baring smile reached Loki face as he bent down to grab the man by his neck; without strain, he lifted the man and pressed him against the wall, holding him just high enough so his feet couldn’t reach the ground.

Loki leaned in close, his voice a whisper,  _ “Threaten us again. I dare you.” _

The blond’s eyes were practically bulging from their sockets, his face turned red as he struggled to take in the oxygen Loki was so ruthlessly keeping from him; his grip tightened and Loki watched the man’s wide eyes grow wet.

_ “You’re going to leave and never come back. If I see you again-”  _ Loki breathed, grinning at the frantic fear shimmering in the man’s pupils,  _ “I’ll skin you alive.” _

His clenching hand lingered a little longer on the man’s throat and despite his words, he wondered for just a moment whether he could get away with choking the man to death - the brief notion that maybe Stark wouldn’t find out about this little back-alley dispute fluttered on the edge of his mind.

_ “James!”  _ Amelia’s cry broke him free of his morbid reverie and Loki turned his head quickly to her, his eyes searching wildly for the danger he assumed her to be in. 

But she was out of harm’s way, and her hand was outstretched, pointed behind him.

Loki turned with a fraction of a second to spare to find the glint of a knife in his vision coming at him fast - he had become distracted and neglected to immobilise the cowardly man; Loki dropped the blond mugger, shielding his own face with his arm and a moment later he felt a searing pain just below his wrist. He continued quickly, unperturbed by the knife wound on his lower arm, and gripped the man by his collar, lifting him off the ground.

He was scrawnier than the others, perhaps the youngest of the bunch, and he clawed at Loki’s arm, having dropped his knife clumsily; his eyes grew wide as his gaze drew over Loki’s face, until his mouth fell open.

“I- I know you… you’re-”

Before the scrawny man could reveal Loki’s identity, the God of Mischief delivered an exceptionally powerful punch to his jaw, knocking him out cold. The young man hit the concrete with a satisfying thunk.

Loki stepped back, his eyes dragging over the various bodies littering the ground; three of the four men were unconscious, the last of which - who Loki had struck with the baseball bat - was on the ground, curled up and writhing over his  _ definitely _ broken leg.

Seething, Loki approached him, adrenaline still rushing through his veins, and he unsympathetically booted the man in the abdomen repeatedly until he heard the misfit’s desperate, choked pleas for him to stop. 

Even then, Loki continued to drive his foot into the man’s stomach, and it wasn’t until he noticed Amelia in his peripheral vision - slightly buckled over with her hand covering her mouth in shock - that he thought to conclude his brutal assault.

In three long strides, he returned to her side and pressed a hand against her back, encouraging her to get a move on. “Come on, Amelia.” The woman said nothing in response, she simply stumbled onwards and allowed him to lead her home; no other words were spoken until the two entered the elevator in Amelia’s apartment building.

“Are you alright?” 

It was surprisingly Loki who broke the tense silence. He had been watching Amelia from the corner of his eyes the whole time as she stood stiffly, swaying ever so slightly in place; her face was pale, no longer rosy from the remnants of the cold weather, and she’d hardly blinked the entire walk back.

“Mm.” Was her cryptic response, but Loki was glad she was at least coherent enough to recognise he’d asked her a question; her dreamlike state had left him wondering whether she was actually  _ all there. _

Still, it was a good sign when she stepped out of the elevator unprompted as it stopped at her floor, and she made her way smoothly enough to her front door with Loki in tow.

The God of Mischief stepped reluctantly into the apartment he presumed to be bugged - it was the reason they had left in the first place and eventually encountered those low-life scums; there would be hell to pay for Tony Stark.

He watched Amelia stumble off around the divided kitchen and pour herself a glass of water, which she abruptly took a few gulps of, and then as an afterthought, she made a move to grab a new glass and shakily asked, “Do you want some water?”

Loki declined and Amelia hummed again in response, continuing to sip from her glass; she walked as though she was uncertain of her own balance, taking slow steps as she returned to stand near the couch. She cast her cloudy gaze on him, a searching expression on her face as she scanned his eyes, nose, mouth, dragging down his chest before landing on his right forearm which was subtly cradled in his left hand.

Her brown eyes grew sharp, all the fragments of haziness melting away as she caught sight of the stream of red trailing out from below his sleeve, down his palm and fingers, pooling into his other hand to avoid dripping all over the wooden floor.

“Holy  _ shit” _ , she hissed, suddenly quite lucid as she put her glass down and scuttered to the bathroom, “Sit down- on the couch. Oh my  _ god,  _ why didn’t you say anything!?” Her voice drifted through the apartment, slightly muffled, and Loki frowned as she reappeared clutching a towel and a first-aid kit, mumbling frantically to herself. “-just standing there, bleeding, not saying anything-  _ sit down, for the love of-” _

“I’m  _ fine”, _ Loki assured her, “This is nothing. I’ve endured worse-”

_ “Sit. Down.” _

Amelia’s lips were pursed, her eyes wide and the tone of her voice implied she was not to be defied; she pointed one finger to the couch seat and gave him an expectant look mixed with twitchy apprehension. Loki restrained the roll of his eyes; he was a  _ God,  _ the laceration on his arm was nothing more than a papercut to him and would mend up perfectly in just a few days thanks to his body’s naturally advanced healing.

_ But…  _ Amelia just wouldn’t let it go, so he humoured her and sat down in his usual seat, offering his arm to her outstretched hand. She got to work, unbuttoning his cuff before gently folding up his torn sleeve; she cringed at the sight of the wound, immediately reaching for the towel to wrap around his forearm so that she could ease the bleeding.

“You’re just going to make it worse”, Loki murmured, watching as she applied pressure and raised his arm, holding it above his head.

“My brother was a surgeon. He did teach me a thing or two about first-aid, y’know”, she replied calmly, letting out a weary sigh, “I should’ve called the police already.”

“No.” Loki spoke sternly, his hard gaze piercing, “They won’t loiter around this part of the city anymore, I made sure of it.” One of the men had recognised him, that likely would’ve been enough to put them off hanging around this side of the city -  _ if they know what’s good for themselves. _

“But they could hurt someone else…” Amelia spoke softly and Loki cocked his head at her ever-bubbling empathy.

“I doubt they’d want to draw attention to themselves by doing something as stupid as attacking anyone else.”  _ Besides, they’d probably all be in hospital for a good, long while for the sake of their various severe-but-not-lethal injuries. _

Amelia sighed again, making sure she still held enough pressure against the wound, “You just had to suggest we go down a back alley in the middle of the night”, she grumbled, though there was a playful hint that suggested she had gotten over the shock of the whole situation already.

Loki clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, “You were insisting we go the long way around. Any longer out there and you may have frozen to death.”

“And whose fault is that?” Amelia snapped without missing a beat, “You didn’t even give me time to grab my coat before we left earlier!”

Loki’s eyes fell to his suit jacket which Amelia had yet to take off and he shook his head with a vaguely amused smile on his face.

“Does this hurt?” Amelia enquired gently and Loki shook his head; it was just a slight sting, really, nothing to concern her about.

The woman cautiously lowered his arm, peeling back the now-stained towel to inspect the laceration - the blood flow had decreased considerably and she got to work on cleaning it up a little so she could wrap it with a bandage, “You’ll have to see a doctor as soon as possible, it could get infected”, she warned him.

“Alright”, he answered her, putting her nerves at bay - it wouldn’t get infected and he really didn’t need to see a doctor, but he reassured her anyway that he would get it looked at.

“James… thank you.”

Loki blinked, “What for?”

Amelia exhaled in amusement, “Well, you… kinda saved me there…”

True, he certainly made sure Amelia hadn’t met a gruesome fate, and he’d let off some steam in the process - it had, admittedly, felt good to deliver a harsh beating to someone who deserved it. Who knows what might’ve happened to Amelia had he not been with her?

She probably wouldn’t have been caught down a dark alley in the first place, sure, but he’d kept her out of harm’s way and it felt good to be… thanked for it.

His green gaze fell to the gold watch on her wrist - she’d clipped it back on at some point - and Loki licked his dry lips, regarding it with curiosity. She had been willing to part with her phone, and probably would’ve given up all her money had she been carrying it, but the broken watch was where she drew the line?

“So, what’s so special about your watch?” He voiced his question, cocking his head slightly, noting the way she paused her aid for just a moment before continuing.

“...It belonged to my brother”, she told him plainly, and then added, “He was wearing it the day he… yeah.” She couldn’t bare to finish her sentence at that moment, and Loki didn’t press, having gotten the picture already. 

Loki nodded slightly, eyes narrowing on the broken clock face. So, the watch held great sentimental value and she’d kept it as a memento, but still - her unwillingness to part with it could have cost Amelia her life had Loki not been there.

Amelia secured the bandage around his forearm and smiled softly at him, cradling his arm in her hands, “My hero”, she spoke quietly with an impish undertone as her thumb brushed lightly over the gauze.

“Do not”, Loki began, even as his lips curled up at the corners of his mouth, “call me a hero. I hate it.”

“Then why are you smiling?” Amelia’s grin grew triple the size, and she even let out a giggle as Loki tried his darndest to restrain his indisputable delight at being described as heroic.

“Shut up.”

Amelia snickered, trailing her fingers down to take his hand into a gentle grip; she breathed an audible inhale. “Your hands”, she whispered, “are  _ always  _ cold.”

Before Loki could respond, she leant down slightly, breathing hot air over his fingers before rubbing them between her hands; he blinked as she did this repeatedly, until he questioned aloud, “What are you… doing?”

“Warming your hands, duh”, she responded, continuing the gesture.

It was an odd sort of affectionate action he’d never experienced until then; his hands seemed to be naturally cold, he’d never been overcome with the desire to warm them in such a way, especially given that the low temperatures didn’t bother him, but something about Amelia’s thoughtful ministrations left him stock-still.

Loki couldn’t help but stare; there was something inherently caring and motherly about the attention and it appeared to tranquillise him, to his own amazement. He did nothing, said nothing, but watched.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Amelia’s soft enquiry brought him back to himself after a few moments and Loki quickly shut his parted lips and blinked his wide eyes as she continued to say, “Your face has gone a little flushed.”

Indeed, Loki could feel the heat radiating from his cheeks and realised swiftly that his breathing had sped up a fraction - he had no explanation for what had caused such a reaction.

He was rather impressed with himself when he managed to keep his voice entirely neutral in his response, “I’m fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a lot of fun writing this chapter, hence the length. So please, PLEASE, show your appreciation if you enjoyed it and leave me a wonderful lil comment! Every comment makes me so happy, I swear. I wanna see what everyone thinks of this :')
> 
> Also, post-Ragnarok Loki would absolutely delight in being called a hero and you can't convince me otherwise. I mean, he turned up on Asgard like "YOUR SAVIOUR IS HERE!" so he clearly would love it :'D


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, man, I have such a good idea coming a little later on in this fic that I cannot WAIT to write.

 

Loki awoke with a start.

The haze of sleep lingered heavily in the forefront of his mind as he pulled himself up into a sitting position, and a sharp sting in his arm helped clear the lethargy, restoring his recollections of the previous night.

Ah, of course, he’d taken a knife to the arm and Amelia had insisted on bandaging it up, then they’d spent a couple of hours decompressing after the night’s events by watching a movie and quietly talking; well, they hadn’t really watched the movie - it’d just been some welcomed background noise while the two of them unwound following their particularly disconcerting experience. Well, _ Amelia’s _ disconcerting experience, at least. Loki had not been unsettled as a result of the attempted mugging, but he’d helped alleviate the woman’s nerves by staying around a little longer than before. She’d been quiet for a while after selecting a movie - it’d been some sappy romantic film that Loki had absolutely zero interest in, but he’d sat in silence, drifting around in his thoughts until Amelia had spoken up almost halfway through the film.

Her talkative nature had returned quickly as she’d asked multiple questions about where he’d learnt how to fight so well and how he had kept his cool despite being outnumbered. Loki had simply told her that he was well-versed in all sorts of combat, hand-to-hand included, and that he was trained to keep a collected mind in such situations.

“You’re stronger than you look.” Amelia had murmured offhandedly, evoking a narrow glare from Loki - because she could only be implying that he looked anything  _ but _ strong. She’d laughed at his expression, “Quit pouting, I didn’t mean it like that.”

_ The God of Mischief does  _ **_not_ ** _ pout.  _ He had  _ not  _ been pouting. Not at all.

Loki had left before the end of the movie, at around four o’clock in the morning, when Amelia’s head began to droop in exhaustion and his dwindling patience for the film’s unfunny romance cliches had started to run out.

He’d returned to Avengers Tower, made his way to his room, and laid down on his bed shortly before succumbing to sleep, which explained why he’d awoken still dressed in his black suit.

A glance at the clock on his bedside table revealed it was just after midday and Loki let out a sigh, falling back to the bed for a little while longer. 

Something continued to plague his mind. He recalled, very clearly, the strangely hot sensation that had crawled over his skin the night prior as Amelia had clutched and warmed his hand between her fingers in what was ultimately an innocent and tender gesture. Why had it elicited such a response in him? And  _ what exactly  _ had the feeling behind the sensation been?

He had thought about it the entire walk back to his current residence, a permanent crease set on his face as he struggled to pinpoint the emotion. 

_ Appreciation?  _

Why would he have encountered that kind of sentiment arising from such an insignificant action on Amelia’s part? She’d warmed his cold hand, enclosed it within her palms, as if it really  _ mattered _ \- as if it was just as important to her as administering the first-aid to the wound on his arm. Why did the simple skin-to-skin contact leave Loki enraptured?

Loki let out a groan of disgust. Surely it hadn’t been  _ that _ long since he’d felt such a compassionate touch - and even if it had -  _ surely  _ it hadn’t subconsciously bothered him to the point where his body was appreciative from the touch of a  _ mortal. _

Another thought had occurred as he’d made his way back last night; the pressing notion of what those men might’ve done to Amelia if Loki had not been with her. The woman had already proven she had a thing for late-night strolls through the city; it didn’t matter that she naturally strayed from dark alleys - bad people were everywhere and they didn’t all look like terribly-dressed thugs. They could disguise themselves, force their way into Amelia’s good-books with false charm and cautiously hidden agendas, pretending to be somebody they weren’t - and then, upon earning her utter and complete trust, they could hurt her; these metaphorical, bad people could do terrible things to Amelia before she realised what was happening.

_ Oh.  _ Loki realised with dismay.  _ He cared. _

Try as he might, Loki couldn’t remember the exact moment he’d started caring about Amelia’s well-being. Perhaps it was somewhere between the mugger’s threat and the first-aid attention Amelia had offered him, or maybe it was the moment her hands had curled around his.

Murmuring obscenities under his breath, Loki dragged himself off of the bed and towards the en-suite bathroom; a shower would do him good after having slept in his day clothes, plus, he needed to clear his mind.

He stripped, removing the unneeded bandage on his forearm, and stepped under the warm spray of water, wondering why he’d let himself grow even slightly attached to the human - and  _ why _ the idea in the possibility of Amelia becoming absent from the world actually seemed to bother him.

* * *

 

“Oh, look who decided to join us for lunch, guys!” Stark exclaimed in an overt, enthusiastic manner that seemed just as out of place as the wide smile on his face. Loki paused at the entrance to the dining room, dragging his eyes over the occupants of the room; Banner was sat at the table, sipping cautiously at a mug of coffee while Thor was stood behind the counter, peering searchingly into the refrigerator. 

Tony stood at the kitchenette island, clutching a green apple in one hand and a digital tablet in the other; his eyes fell to the screen of the device and he cocked an eyebrow as he read over something that was apparently amusing to him.

The billionaire’s seemingly buoyant attitude rarely meant anything good, especially in Loki’s presence.

“Stark, you seem worryingly cheerful this afternoon”, Loki spoke indifferently, breezing across the room to the fridge Thor loitered in front of; the God of Mischief swiped a bottle of still water from the inner shelving unit, shooting Thor a cynical glare when he noticed the very slight smirk on the blond’s face.

Indignance bubbled in the pit of Loki’s stomach as he figured everybody must’ve been talking about him before he entered the room, and that’s why they were acting the way they were; even Banner seemed to hide a smile behind his hot beverage.

Pinning them all with a suspicious stare, Loki opened his mouth to enquire as to just what exactly was so entertaining, but Stark quickly cut him off, reading from the device in his hand.

“Internal bleeding, broken leg, two concussions - one minor and one severe, broken jaw, various scrapes and bruises”, Tony paused to take a bite out of his apple, giving Loki a pointed stare, “Sounds like you had fun last night.”

Loki resisted the temptation to roll his eyes. So that was it; Tony had heard about the little altercation he’d been involved in and the billionaire was elated to finally have a reason to lock him up and have him think about the consequences of his actions.

“The NYPD report came in early this morning”, Stark continued, “Wouldn’t have been worth reading except for the fact that your name was mentioned. One of the young men you battered said he recognised you - no one else believed him of course, but somebody down there thought to send me a copy of the incident.”

Tony seemed far too happy, it was pressing Loki’s nerves.

“They attacked us”, Loki sneered, struck with the sudden urge to defend his actions, “I gave them what they deserved -  _ actually, no  _ \- I was  _ generous.  _ I could have killed them,  _ but I didn’t”,  _ he clenched the bottle of water in his fist, irritation simmering in his chest.

“I realise that”, Stark acknowledge, nodding his head as he took another crunching bite of his apple, proceeding to speak through his chewing, “I also read that all four of the men confirmed you had a young woman with you. Care you enlighten us?”

Loki noticed the way Thor and Banner both perked up a smidge at that little piece of information; his eyes darted to his brother’s face and he wanted to groan at the far-too-interested curiosity in the blond’s expression. Of course, Loki’s immediate instinct was to deny Amelia’s alleged presence on the scene, to shrug it off as all four of the criminals simply having lost their minds, but he stopped himself, becoming abruptly aware that he’d already given away the truth in the men’s claims.  _ They attacked  _ **_us._ ** That’s what he’d said.

The God of Mischief cringed inwardly, silently berating himself.

Tony’s smug face looked really quite punchable at that moment.

“I think you already know who she is”, Loki hissed, taking a step towards the man, “You had two men force their way into her apartment and intrude on her privacy”, he accused brazenly, his voice raised in anger. Banner and Thor looked utterly confused, sharing an uncertain glance in the midst of the argument taking place.

Tony blinked, popping his apple down on the counter to raise a wagging finger, “Okay hold on, firstly, they did not enter her apartment without permission, and they certainly didn’t intrude on anyone’s privacy. They were merely checking in on her”, the CEO’s gaze narrowed slightly, “My sources told me you’ve been spending a lot of time there, I just wanted to make sure you weren’t up to no good.”

Loki swallowed, coming to the conclusion that he’d been wrong in his assumption that Stark had ordered the place to be bugged; he cursed silently, shaking his head in annoyance, “Just leave her alone, she doesn’t need to be dragged into this”, he hissed, teeth grinding together.

If Stark’s intentions were to have Amelia taken in for questioning over the incident then it could only lead to trouble - if his name was mentioned, it could ruin the persona of  _ James  _ that he’d carefully assembled in his place. 

Tony quirked an eyebrow at Loki’s request, a hint of cynicism still visible behind his eyes, before he shrugged, “Okay, sure, whatever. From what the S.H.I.E.L.D agents reported back with, she seemed normal enough - but don’t go getting any funny ideas, Reindeer Games.”

Loki frowned, Stark’s words seemed awfully dismissive, unlike what he’d expected, and the resulting silence only served to agitate him further. “Well, out with it Stark. Am I to be punished for my violence against the mortals? Are you going to lock me up and throw away the key?” a mirthless smirk grew on his face the longer he spoke, his eyes darkening in an almost challenging way.

The look on Tony’s face was unexpected, his expression scrunched up in faux confusion with a sharply quirked eyebrow; the CEO looked between Thor and Banner with an irritable, knowing look on his face as though he was aware of something Loki was not. Thor let out a rich chuckle, causing the hairs on the back of Loki’s neck to stand on end.

His brother would not be so humoured if Loki was intended to be locked up again - he’d be utterly disappointed, not  _ smiling. _

“Punish you? Why would I do that? This little gang of misfits are responsible for eight successful muggings and three counts of physical assault in the last ten days alone, and now - thanks to you - they’re gonna serve jail time instead of terrorising the people of Manhattan.”

Loki blinked, his mouth falling open and his temper melting away into surprise. “What?” was all he could manage.

“Yeah, the NYPD have been after those guys for weeks now. What I was  _ going  _ to say is-”, Stark smirked, “-good job, man.”

“You’ve done the police department a great service, Loki”, Banner spoke up, an edge of laughter to his tone, and a well-hidden complacent look on his smiling face.

“Brother, I am  _ proud  _ of you!” Thor laughed, rounding the counter to deliver Loki a hard clap on the back.

Loki momentarily closed his eyes to keep his composure in check, wanting nothing more than to wipe the merriment off all three of their faces; he was infuriatingly taken aback by the beguiling praise, and not in a good way. With an exasperated sigh, he left the room briskly, hating Stark even more so than when he walked in.

* * *

 

Amelia was staring at him; Loki could see her head turned slightly in his direction just out of the corner of his eye, and yet when he regarded her with an inquisitive look, she averted her gaze, acting innocent and unsuspecting as though she hadn’t been inspecting every inch of his face for the past half hour.

She hadn’t said much, which wouldn’t have been completely outlandish given they were watching another movie - this time of the action and sci-fi genre - except Amelia hadn’t paid the film an ounce of attention. The woman was far too interested in him, and she wasn’t subtle about it in the slightest.

“You think I don’t notice you watching me?” Loki spoke up, looking back to the television screen where some laser-sword battle was taking place; he lounged back in his cushioned seat, legs crossed at his ankles, which were resting on the coffee table ahead.

Somewhat startled by his voice after the extended silence, Amelia blinked, looking curiously across at him; her cheeks flushed a light pink and she brought her hand up to run through her hair, pulling at the moderately askew strands.

“What? I wasn’t staring at you”, she protested, looking pointedly back to the movie, lips puckered in a clear pout.

A soft exhale of amusement escaped Loki’s mouth and he shook his head; he was the God of mischief and lies, he could tell when somebody else was being untruthful - not that his keen sense of intuition was needed to catch Amelia out, he had  _ seen  _ her with his own eyes.

“Liar. You were staring at me.”

Amelia hummed in denial, shaking her head; she plucked her drink from the table and sipped from it, resuming the playful twirls of her fingers through her hair. Loki smirked at her telling mannerisms, the way she avoided his piercing eyes and inclined her head to cover her reddened face were all evident that she’d been caught red-handed.

“You aren’t as sneaky as you think you are, and you’re a terrible liar. It’s laughable”, Loki spoke, a smile of amusement pulling at his lips.

“How’s your arm? Did you see a doctor?” She spoke suddenly, sounding a little too attentive.

Loki chuckled, “Changing the subject, hm?” The wound on his arm had begun to heal, the skin closing up and mending without a problem - only a slight sore redness remained, but Loki had re-bandaged it to hide the healing progress, taking into consideration the fact that if Amelia were to see it, she would definitely find it strange how quick the recovery was.

“Hey, I’m just concerned about you is all. I don’t think my worry is unjustified”, her eyes fell to his right arm where the white bandage was visible from just below his black sleeve, “It was a pretty nasty wound”, she added quietly under her breath.

“It was nothing. Don’t worry yourself over it.” Loki dismissed her anxiety. He threw his arm over the back of the couch and turned his smirking face towards her, “Now tell me why you were staring at me.”

“For the love of- I  _ wasn’t  _ staring at you, alright?” Amelia squeaked, crossing her arms, “I was just… thinking.”

Loki arched an eyebrow at her admission, “About what?”

The alteration in Amelia’s body language was instant and she grew bashful, lowering her head with a sheepish smile on her face, “I don’t know, I just- I’m happy that you… that you’re my friend.”

_ Friend? _

Loki recoiled slightly, his expression that of discomposure; he straightened up once he became aware of the fact he’d grown too relaxed in his reclined position. Now, he was the one averting his gaze, hiding the bewilderment in his eyes so as not to reveal how taken aback he was from Amelia’s words.

Loki did not have friends. He did not  _ need  _ friends. He had not considered anybody his friend since childhood and even then, those who had appeared to be amicable towards him had turned against him when he’d discovered his true heritage.

“Friend?” He echoed, forcing the stammer out of his voice, “I’m… not… we-” he shut his mouth before he could make a fool out of himself by his uncoordinated and inarticulate words, swallowing the consternation that had unexpectedly bubbled up in his throat.

Amelia blinked at his dumbfounded look, frowning when he appeared to have an adverse reaction to her virtuous confession - that she thought them to be friends.

“Are we not friends?” Amelia asked softly, her lips drawn down with a hurtful twitch.

_ ‘No, of course we’re not friends, you mad woman’,  _ he wanted to tell her, wanted to deny all possibility that he’d come to enjoy her companionship on such a familiar level, and yet, he could not push the words past his mouth.

Loki could not bring himself to cruelly reject her offer of amity;  _ he did not want to. _

“I suppose, then… that we are.” He spoke prudently.

Amelia’s demure smile returned tenfold, lighting up the room far brighter than the flashing lights of the Christmas tree in the corner. She shifted, moving closer across the leather seat, licking her lips as a diffident manner overcame her.

“I was wondering”, Amelia murmured, an artfully reticent lilt to her tone, “If perhaps… next Monday… you might like to spend Christmas day with me?”

Loki’s brow furrowed as he milled over her invitation thoughtfully; Amelia was requesting for him to spend the entire day with her, unlike their usual conclaves which often lasted only a few hours, no more than four. He didn’t know if he could stand being cooped up in her apartment for an entire day.

As if reading his mind, she hastily continued, “We don’t have to stay here all day- we could go for a walk, visit Central Park maybe? And I can cook Christmas dinner!” She seemed so utterly hopeful, interlocking her hands together imploringly as she pinned him with wide, pleading eyes.

“No, there will be people around”, Loki declined, shaking his head slightly, but apart from that there was no other reason to refuse - it wasn’t as though he would be wanted in Avengers Tower - he just did not find pleasure in the thought of leaving the shelter of a building to reveal his face to mortals that might recognise him and blow his cover.

“Of course there won’t be! Not on Christmas day!” Amelia argued, “The streets would be deserted - maybe there’d be one or two people around but no one will want to stop a chat, they’ll be too busy heading to their families or whatever…”

Loki let free a sigh, oscillating on the idea, and the uncertainty in his green eyes must’ve been very clear, because Amelia squeezed her hands together with renewed vigour.

“Come on,  _ please!  _ I promise there’ll be no one around, and if there is then we can find something else to do, I just-” she cut herself off abruptly before she could finish her thought, “It would just mean a lot to me.”

Loki raised his drink to his lips, tasting the sweet liquid; his tongue darted out, catching a drip of wine on the rim of the glass before he made up his mind.

“You better be a good cook.”

Amelia squealed in delight, jumping to her feet to bounce around with joyfulness; Loki rolled his eyes, beginning to wonder why he seemingly couldn’t retain his intrinsic habit of saying  _ ‘no’  _ when in the presence of this woman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *whispers* Poor touch-starved Loki <3 
> 
> Loki experiences Christmas in the next chapter, and finds Amelia's hospitality a little overwhelming.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another long-ass chapter for you lovelies because I got some wonderful comments last chapter that made me super happy and motivated ;)

 

Time passed sluggishly. It was an irksome week for Loki as he strove to avoid the Avengers while they prepared for Christmas, lest they tried to rope him into celebrating their precious winter festival - he was not obliged to sit and listen to Stark ramble on about party planning, which specific type of chutney would be served alongside the food at the buffet table or indeed his anxiousness over whether Pepper would appreciate the Christmas gift he had graciously picked out for her.

Thor had approached him at one point in the week, asking for his thoughts on a potential gathering with the Asgardian people to honour their own festival tradition, Yuletide, but Loki had interrupted his excitable brother with a raised hand, informing the blond man that he already had plans the coming Monday - and even if he didn’t have plans, he was not in the mood to attend the customary feast of his people and socialise amongst those he had deceived by posing as Odin.

“Loki, you helped save our people”, Thor stated, “They do not still think ill of you-”

“I’ll stop you there, brother.” Loki asserted at once, “If you think I am forgiven by our people for my many wrongdoings just because I performed one good deed, then you are wrong.” His voice was not bitter, merely factual, and Thor stared silently at him for a few drawn out moments, his blue eyes discerning as they bore into Loki’s own gaze, before the man smiled.

“So you’re admitting that your actions were mistakes and that your aim is to acquire forgiveness?”

Loki blinked, eyes narrowing, “Do  _ not  _ twist my words, brother.”

“But that’s what you said- that they were your  _ wrong _ -doings. As in errors, faults - actions you regret-”

“The  _ only  _ thing I regret is that I did not succeed in taking this pitiful planet as my own”, Loki sneered, baring his teeth in anger; he watched as Thor’s lips pursed, a slight curl to the corner of his mouth as he scrutinised Loki’s face once more.

“I don’t believe you.”

Loki blinked, his mouth snapping shut in momentary astonishment over his brother’s gall, and his infuriation rising at the seemingly ever-present look of self-satisfaction on Thor’s face.

“Then you are a fool!” The God of Mischief snapped, turning to storm out of the room; to his chagrin, he heard the unmistakable sound of his brother’s badly-suppressed chuckles as he left.  
  


* * *

 

Amelia had not been exaggerating when she told Loki that the streets would be deserted on Christmas day.

Loki left the tower early that morning, cunningly evading his brother and the other Avengers, who had amassed in the main room around the large pine tree, before they could question him about his unusually premature departure. The group had grown used to Loki slipping away most nights until the young hours of the following morning, and he was sure he would arouse their suspicions were they to catch him slinking out the door at such a time - thankfully they were all too busy engrossed in their festival traditions to notice him move briskly through the hallway.

There was barely a soul in sight as Loki walked fleetly to Amelia’s apartment block; of course there were occasional cars and infrequent human or two, but nobody that paid him any mind. Without the cover of darkness, however, he had taken the extra precaution of wearing a long coat with a concealing hood; to anyone else he would just look like a normal person shielding himself from the cold weather, but Amelia was ever so theatrical.

“Merry Christma-  _ whoa,  _ you’re wearing- like, an actual coat!” She exclaimed when she opened the door following his three gentle, trademark knocks.

“Your acute sense of observation is truly unmatched”, Loki responded facetiously, not even bothering to hide the smirk on his face; Amelia grinned widely back at him, gently biting her tongue between her teeth.

“Why thank you very much!” She squeaked with a titter, scampering off to the living room; Loki followed, the scent of amber and something spicy filling his nostrils - he took note of the scented candles alight on the dresser beside the framed photographs of Amelia’s departed brother and mother.

The smell of spruce mingled with the spicy candles and Loki directed his gaze towards the elegantly decorated tree and its flickering lights. It felt cosy in the apartment and there was a general air of contentment about the room; he took his usual seat on the couch and Amelia appeared, standing at his side with her hands behind her back.

“Close your eyes”, she told him, a knowing smile on her face, and Loki rose a sceptical eyebrow.

“I’m not going to close my eyes.”

“Come on, just close them! Please!” She bounced slightly on the heels of her feet as if trying to contain her excitement and Loki rolled his eyes before shutting them.

“Hold out your hands”, Amelia spoke, and Loki did so - albeit letting out a sigh of light exasperation. 

An object was placed in his outstretched palms and he opened his eyes, frowning at the wrapped box the woman had given him, “What is it?” he asked, quirking a curious eyebrow. It was rectangular in shape, about two inches thick and roughly the length of his forearm, and it was wrapped neatly in shiny green paper - he’d seen a bunch of similarly encased boxes below the tree in Avengers Tower just that morning.

“Open it and find out, silly”, Amelia quipped, earning a brief glare from him.

Loki gently peeled away the tape holding the wrapping paper down, unfolding the packaging with care to reveal a sleek, dark brown, lidded box with gold lettering on the top. 

_ ‘Gucci.’  _

_ What on Earth did that mean? _

Loki’s brow furrowed as he examined the thin sides of the package and found nothing else, no other information to offer a clue as to what was inside - but Amelia had grown antsy during his drawn-out perusal of the box’s exterior. It was clear she wanted nothing more than for him to open it up already.

He fiddled for a moment with the lid before prying it away.

“Merry Christmas!” Amelia squeaked, grinning ear to ear as he looked upon the contents of the box.

The box was inlaid with white silk, and nestled in the middle were a pair of midnight green leather gloves. An odd feeling bubbled in his chest as Loki examined them, his eyes flickering back and forth over the raised, patterned seam to the small, silver-tone, metal emblem in the shape of a tiger’s head that was pinned to the outer side of the wrist.

“I hope they fit”, came Amelia’s hesitant voice, and Loki’s lips parted with the intention to question why she had given them to him, but instead he remained silent, and attentively picked up the gloves, feeling the softness of the supple leather.

The inner lining of the glove was black cashmere, and it hugged his hand pleasantly as he slipped them on, bending his fingers to test the flexibility of the leather - they were pliable and elegant. He swallowed thickly.

“They fit well”, he stated, and Amelia beamed, biting at her lower lip; her expression fell, however, as he continued, “but…”

“But?” Amelia blinked rapidly, an anxious look blooming on her round face.

Loki frowned; the gloves were beautiful and looked quite expensive - the colour was perfect and the material was ever so comfortable.

“...But I did not get you anything”, Loki finished. It was an incredibly thoughtful gift, Loki realised, given that Amelia had no idea about the heritage that left him practically immune to the cold, but now he was put in the unfortunate situation of having nothing to present her with to return her amicable gesture.

Amelia’s face scrunched up slightly before a small smile broke out across her face, “James, I didn’t- I wasn’t expecting you to get me anything, it’s fine, I- I just wanted to do something nice for you.”

Her explanation only served to confuse him further - why would she not expect anything in return? Wasn’t the idea of the Midgardian Christmas festival to exchange gifts equally?

“You shouldn’t have gotten me a gift”, Loki murmured, a somewhat despondent tone to his words, and Amelia’s face fell again.

“You don’t like them?”

The meekness of her voice evoked a roll of Loki’s eyes and he shook his head, “I like them”, he asserted, “but I do not understand why you would buy me a gift and not expect one in return.”

Amelia was silent as she gave Loki a peculiar look, an expression that seemed to exhibit a lack of understanding, before she smiled softly, “I don’t need a present, I’m just happy you’re here.”

The words hung in the air for a moment as they sunk into Loki’s mind; it was entirely bizarre to him that one would display generosity if not for the reason of benefiting oneself. Once again, he was reminded of his initial interaction with the woman and the conversation they had shared - the philosophical question she had posed him which had revealed her own apparent selflessness.

Clearly, she had not been joking. Loki had always been wary of those who appeared altruistic; his trust was not easily obtained, but with just one glance into Amelia’s eyes, he could tell there was nothing but charitable benevolence.

She was just so…  _ unlike  _ him.

“Thank you”, Loki told her, gazing back down to his gloved hands.

“You’re welcome”, Amelia licked her lips, “Now your hands won’t get cold anymore.”

Another pang of that unconventional bubbly feeling breezed through Loki’s chest; he wiggled his leather-clad fingers and smirked, admiring the perfectly green-dyed material, wondering just how accurately she had selected  _ his _ colour.

“Why green?” he voiced his curiosity, and Amelia bit her lip almost coyly.

“Well”, she began, her gaze flickering over his face, “It matches your eyes.” Abruptly, she averted her stare, her cheeks almost instantaneously flushing red as she stammered, “I’m sorry, I- I  _ totally  _ didn’t mean for that to sound so creepy!”

A rich chuckle burst from Loki’s throat at the mortification on Amelia’s face and her hands flew up to cover her heated cheeks, partially from embarrassment, and partially from surprise at smooth baritone laughter emerging from his lips.

* * *

It was refreshing to walk around Manhattan in the middle of the day without the concern of being recognised; the sun shining through the white clouds and the chilly gust blowing occasionally as a reminder that, yes, it was the middle of Winter, and it was cold. Not that Loki cared - although it did give him a chance to test the warmth of his brand new gloves. It was Amelia who was comically shrouded in multiple, colourful layers, with a scarf around her neck so wide and puffy that it practically covered her entire face. 

She’d pulled it down a little to make sure she could see where she walked, but her glasses fogged up with every hot breath she exhaled and she found herself stumbling a every few moments anyway. Really, if it wasn’t for Loki grabbing her arm to steady her several times, her face would’ve long-since made friends with the concrete beneath their feet.

They had walked around the larger lake in central park, blissfully unconcerned about running into anyone as it was still too early on Christmas day for people to have decided to leave the warm comfort of their homes; Amelia had wistfully spoken about the activites her and her family used to enjoy on the holidays when her mother and brother were still alive. Loki learned that Amelia had once had a fondness for ice-skating, but hadn’t done so in a long time.

“I’d be way out of practise now”, she had commented idly as they passed by the ice rink, which was closed for Christmas day, “But I used to be so good at it. My brother wasn’t very good - he always hugged the edge but the thing about ice-skating is you have to force yourself to be confident or the hesitation will bring you crashing to the ice.” She’d sighed, eyeing the rink with a longing look.

A moment had passed, and she had turned to Loki, a bright smile on her face once more - it was incredible how rapidly her moods changed - and Loki had noticed, just as the sun caught Amelia’s eyes, that her usually dark brown gaze became a soft and reddish brown, like warm honey.

They had sat briefly on one of the benches near the lake, because Amelia had insisted, whining that she was cold and needed to stop and rest - to which Loki had argued that sitting still would only make her more cold, but the stubborn woman had refused to acknowledge the truth in his words, and instead popped herself down on the uncomfortable, wooden seat.

Almost shivering, she had reached into her pocket and held up her phone, tapping something on her screen before holding the device at arm’s length.

“Hey James”, she had called, drawing Loki’s attention to the screen of her phone in time to watch her tap a button and capture the moment.

“What did you just do?” Loki had enquired, a note of anger in his voice, “Did you just take a photo? Delete it.”

“What?” Amelia had squeaked, “Why? It was a good selfie”, she whined, a huge pout on her face; she held her phone close to her chest protectively, as though Loki was going to snatch it from her grip - which he might have.

“What on Earth is a  _ selfie?”  _ Loki asked, indignantly, “Whatever it is, I don’t care, delete it.”

“No!” Amelia protested, shoving her phone back in her pocket, “I wanted to keep the memory, okay?”

“You have at least a  _ semi- _ functioning brain to store memories with”, Loki argued, holding out his hand, “Give it to me now.”

Amelia grumbled at his quip, “Why are you against me taking a picture of us? It’s not like you look unflattering in it…”

Loki wasn’t completely unaware of the human customs regarding  _ the internet _ \- he had heard Stark explain ‘social media’ before and he understood how quickly an image, once posted, could travel across the world in record time.

“You’ll post it on the internet”, Loki accused, his eyebrows knitted at the thought of someone recognising him from a stupid so-called  _ selfie. _

Amelia raised an eyebrow, apparently finding humour in his assertion; she breathed a laugh, “Um, no I won’t. I hardly go on the internet. You don’t have to worry about that, James.”

Loki’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, “Well you’ll share it with your friends, then.”

Amelia threw her head back in loud laughter, but there was something disingenuous about the tone of it, like it was forced, “Friends!? What friends? I only have one friend. You!”

Loki had thought her to be lying in an attempt to convince him to let her keep the picture, but the more he thought about it, the more sense it made. Never had Amelia mentioned any friends to him before - and given how much Amelia talked about everything else in her life, it was safe to assume that if she actually had any comrades, she would’ve brought them up by now. So, she lacked social interaction - it wasn’t that surprising given her odd quirks - Loki had only initially agreed to share time with her because her strangeness piqued his interest, and he could easily see how  _ normal mortals _ would be put off by her behaviour.

It was around that time that Loki finally understood her insistence on his company so often; she was lonely. Undoubtedly so.

He let her keep the picture.

* * *

Upon returning to the apartment after a few hours of aimless wandering, Amelia readily put her cooking skills to good use while Loki sat on the couch, sipping from a glass of red wine that the woman had once again offered him - it turned out that after she’d learnt of his love for red wine, Amelia had gone out of her way to purchase several different bottled brands of the beverage, just for him. She rarely even drank red wine herself; Loki valued her consideration of him.

He hadn’t been expecting much when Amelia had promised a good meal, but when the smell of roasted turkey wafted through the room, Loki was embarrassed to admit he had begun to salivate.

Amelia had a permanently smug look on her face the entire time they ate; not even Loki could hide the pleasure on his face as he experienced the mix of tastes - the meat was succulent and there was a distinct hint of citrus to it, and combined with the cranberry sauce, it was utterly delicious. All of it; the stuffing, gravy, potatoes and steamed vegetables - it was the best meal he’d had in a long time and certain blends of tastes reminded him of the Yuletide feasts on Asgard.

Another pang of longing for the past drifted through his mind and he fought to push it back down, growing irritated at his lack of control over himself; the bursts of flavours forcing memories into his head without his consent were far too unfair to him given that they tasted  _ so good. _

“Would you like a second helping?” Amelia asked him, and Loki inwardly cringed, because  _ yes,  _ he wanted more food, but he’d have to damper down on the involuntary yearning soaring up inside him and he wasn’t sure he could will it away so easily. 

One memory in particular refused to ebb away. 

His brother, back before the trust issues, laughing and smiling and joking with the roaring loudness he was known for as he downed quart after quart of ale, slamming his goblet against the banquet table to noisily request another. The things Thor would drunkenly say often left Loki gasping for breath, holding his stomach as tears welled in his eyes from the force of his laughter - he could not deny the joyous times he shared with his brother, Sif and the Warriors Three after a few solid hours of nonstop alcohol consumption.

His father, back before the anger and resentment, looking upon his sons with humour and pride from the head of the table. Recalling stories and tales from the previous great hunts, capturing Thor’s and Loki’s rapt attention with magnificent details.

His mother, back before… the disappointment, regarding Loki and Thor with fondness and love and the belief that she would watch them grow into fine men of honour. Her kind eyes smiling with wrinkles in the corners when she shared amused glances with Loki when his brother made a jest of himself.

“James? Are you alright?”

Amelia seemed to appear abruptly at his side, a worried hand on his shoulder, and Loki realised he’d been staring at his empty plate for a while, unaware of the woman’s growing apprehension.

“I’m fine”, he told her through gritted teeth and a clenched jaw, his voice tight and filled with anger at himself, and Amelia released his shoulder, a deep frown on her face that told Loki she was unsettled by his sudden aggravation.

The fury melted out of him when she took a step away from him, and he cleared his throat, rubbing a hand over his face as he quickly composed himself, “I apologise, I… just remembered something unfavourable.” He recalled her previous question, “The food was exquisite, but I have had enough, thank you.” In truth, he had room for more, but he needed time to separate himself from the past.

“I see”, Amelia responded softly, her gaze lingered on him carefully for a few moments before she picked up their empty plates to take them to the kitchen, “In that case, how about we do something fun now?”

Loki rose an eyebrow, wondering what exactly the woman had in mind.

* * *

 

And that was how Loki found himself sitting opposite Amelia at the small table in her living room, watching her appalling attempt to assemble a gingerbread house.

He rested his elbow against the surface, leaning his cheek against his palm with a humorous look in his eyes, noting the slight clumsy shake of Amelia’s far-from-dexterous fingers trying desperately to use frosting as an adhesive to seal three gingerbread panels together.

“You’re doing that so wrong.”

Amelia pouted, shooting him a glare as a rumble sounded in the back of her throat, “Look, I used to do this every Christmas. You said you’ve  _ never _ done it before so I think I’d know if I was doing it wrong.”

Loki smirked, allowing her to continue to push the walls together uncoordinatedly for a few more minutes before it became too much to witness and he shook his head, “Just- stop, you can’t- you’re balancing them all wrong”, he protested, leaning forward to pluck one of the walls from her hand, ignoring her fussy  _ ‘hey, you’ll break it!’  _ in favour of snatching up the icing pump to show her exactly how it was done.

Several minutes and a few sticky fingers later, the base, walls and roof of the small gingerbread house were constructed; Amelia glared down at the miniature, sugary home with a look of resignation before breathing an overdramatic, exasperated sigh.

“Okay, so maybe I was doing it a little wrong.”

“You were doing it very wrong.”

“You’re mean.”

“No. I’m right.”

“Well the two aren’t mutually exclusive, so there!” Amelia grabbed the hand towel from the table to wipe the icing from her hands and then threw it across the surface, aiming for Loki’s face; of course, having quite impressive reflexes, he caught it gracefully and cleaned his fingers as a complacent grin settled on his lips.

“Are we finished?” Loki asked, his eyes darting down to the perfectly assembled house.

“What? Of course not! We still have to decorate it, silly”, Amelia squeaked, pointing to the array of multiple candy-filled bowls on the tray beside them; she picked up two vaguely person-shaped gingerbread pieces and handed one to Loki, “Also, here, you can make me and I’ll make you.”

It was a ridiculous sounding request to Loki as he narrowed his eyes on what was supposed to represent a tiny human, “How am I supposed to make this resemble anything like you?”

“You use your imagination, James.” Amelia deadpanned, reaching for the smaller tubes of colourful frosting. With the green icing, she squirted two blobs onto the gingerbread man’s face, “See, there’s your eyes!”

Loki rose an eyebrow as he scrutinised her work, disapproving of the too-large drops of liquid sugar that took up almost the entire head, “My eyes don’t collectively make up half the size of my face.”

“Quit criticising my icing skills and get to work!” 

With a roll of his apparently melon-sized eyes, Loki used the tools at his disposal to create something that loosely mirrored Amelia’s appearance, complete with big glasses and an obtrusively bright orange sweater with green polka dots. His gaze fell to Amelia’s hands where she paid extra close attention to the tiny Loki she was decorating, making sure to add as much detail as she could to his primarily black clothing and - of course - she couldn’t forget the long, black hair; she even added his new gloves, which he’d removed for this activity because getting sugar all over them was the last thing on Loki’s mind.

For a long moment, he just watched her, noting the way her tongue darted out to lick at her upper lip in apt concentration, or the way she occasionally flicked her head to the side to clear her vision of the insistent strand of hair that kept falling out from behind her ear. At one point, her eyes rose briefly to check Loki’s own work and she giggled, resuming her icing while murmuring something about how she didn’t even own an orange sweater with green polka dots. 

Amelia was all too eager to begin decorating the small house; Loki was content to watch her destroy the object with all sorts of sweet treats - adding things called gum drops, skittles, candy canes and twizzlers to make what appeared to be the most obnoxious little, rainbow-coloured, caramelised, candied abode he had ever seen. Loki would’ve been lying if he said he didn’t like the taste of the gum drops, however, and was guilty of swiping a few from the bowl as he watched Amelia’s creation come to life.

To finish the entire thing off, she placed the gingerbread versions of themselves just outside of the door and sat back in her chair, admiring the sugar-coated craft with far too much glee - as though it was the greatest thing she had ever made, filling her gleaming eyes with overwhelming pride.

“How does it look?” Amelia pushed for Loki’s opinion and the God of Mischief smirked.

“It looks like an absolute disaster...”

Amelia sat up straight in her chair, crossing her arms with a miffed expression, but before she could open her mouth and protest his harsh assessment, he continued to say, “But I suppose it is somewhat… endearing.”

His additional words appeared to placate the woman a little and she let a shy smile pass over her face.

In a flash, Loki seized Amelia’s gingerbread figure from its gooey pool of icing and devoured the head in one keen bite; Amelia’s jaw fell open in melodramatic horror.

“You just  _ killed  _ me!” She cried.

“Mm, you taste divine, darling.” The words left Loki’s mouth impulsively, his voice as sugar-coated as his tongue, while his natural charismatic charm pushed him into flirtation mode without a second thought; he blinked a few times fast the moment he realised what he’d said, but didn’t let the mild fluster reach his cheeks, instead he stared her in the face and kept his cool as though the comment had been completely intentional.

Amelia, on the other hand, grew red-faced and timorous, quickly bringing her hand up to cover her face, fighting to stamp down on the embarrassment flooding her nerves at the raw suggestiveness of his remark - it was clear she saw no innocence in his teasing assertion.

She stammered for a few agonising moments, before jumping to her feet, “I, uh, gotta go to the bathroom!” Without another word, she zipped across the room and disappeared into said room, shutting the door tightly behind her. The moment she did so, Loki slammed his clenched fist against the table, hissing an obscenity or two under his breath for his minute of thoughtlessness - what in the Nine Realms pushed him to say such a  _ stupid _ thing?

_ Ugh.  _ He was usually so aware of himself, so conscious of every thought buzzing through his head - and yet, in a moment of idleness he had made an offhand, alluring comment, towards a mortal no less.

What had gotten into him?

He got up, crossing the room to grab his coat and shrug it onto his shoulders; he had to leave, right now.

Halfway through pulling his new leather gloves on, the bathroom door opened and Amelia stepped out, the flush of her cheeks now a little more under control, but still very much present - she frowned when she realised Loki intended to leave.

“Oh, you’re- you’re… going?” Loki paused his movement at the dejection in her voice, flexing his hands within the soft material as he looked over her face.

“I made you uncomfortable-”  _ and he made himself uncomfortable  _ “-I apologise, but I should go.” He spoke tightly, still a little tense over his own behaviour; before Amelia could object and try to convince him to stay longer, he continued, “Thank you for today. I… appreciate your… kindness”, he swallowed, “-the wine, the meal, the gift, all of it was… delightful.” He couldn’t perceive the emotion simmering in the back of his throat, but his admittance furthered his discomfort.

A wave of understanding befell Amelia’s face and she smiled softly, nodding her head in gratefulness, “You’re welcome, James, but - I need to thank you too, for joining me today. It means so much.” She stepped towards him slowly, surveying his expression carefully; he blinked curiously as she moved closer, until she pierced his bubble of personal space and his eyes widened a fraction, mouth falling open in surprise.

In her defense, she seemed to give him all the time in the world to take a step back, building an unnecessary suspense before she took one more step forward, wrapping her arms around him firmly.

Whatever objection Loki had to the gesture died on his lips as his body stiffened in her tender hold; he said nothing, did nothing, waiting for Amelia to step back and put a halt to this unexpected show of affection. 

_ Curious,  _ he couldn’t help but detect the soft scent of vanilla emanating from her hair.

Her head lifted away from his shoulder eventually; it felt as though it had lasted a lifetime - which in Loki’s regard was quite a while - but in reality, it couldn’t have been more than a few seconds. If Amelia noticed his taut stance, she didn’t say anything, and merely looked up at him with a shiny-eyed expression and a slight pink tint to her cheeks.

The silence was deafening, and Loki could hardly take it, “What was that for?” he asked gingerly, fighting the urge to flee the room.

“The hug?” Amelia enquired confusedly, quirking an eyebrow as he clarified with a curt nod, “Well, it was… you know… I was just saying thanks for-” she gently bit the top of her tongue, as if ruminating on her words, “...for being here.”

* * *

 

The streets were quiet, but Loki’s thoughts were loud. The phantom feeling of Amelia’s arms around his body seemed to linger in the same way her touch had done when she’d rubbed his hand before - the odd tingle that he couldn’t place, which seemed to induce a hair-raising shiver down his spine.

He didn’t know why the thoughts dwelled in his head - why he was so caught on the intimate closeness she had initiated. He could have pulled away, pushed her back gently -  _ she’d given him a fair bit of warning _ \- and yet he’d stood there stock-still as she engulfed him in the warmth of her arms. And the scent of vanilla.

Strange, he hadn’t noticed her sweet scent prior to now.

A question pulled at his mind, an inquiry that had bloomed following her words of fierce appreciation; and that was  _ why did someone so kind and generous have no friends? _

Loki, of course, was not accustomed to the ways of Midgardians, but even back on Asgard, one who showed sincere courteousness and benevolence was usually more popular than others - so why was Amelia so alone? She’d been nothing but kind to him.

Perhaps the answer should’ve been more apparent to him before then, given his familiarity with loneliness himself, but as the theory crossed his mind, he realised how palpable the answer was. The people she loved most in the world were gone. Her mother and her brother -  _ but what about her father? She hadn’t mentioned him. Perhaps he too was dead, or perhaps she’d never known him _ \- either way, it was clear none of her family were in the picture any longer. Loki still had his brother, at least, as much as he pretended to hate the man, there was still somebody there for him. Loneliness was a disease, and there had been times where it was all he had felt - the very piercing feeling that made him resent most others.

He and Amelia were a lot alike in that regard. Maybe that was why they had become…  _ friends. _

Loki’s boots clicked as his feet fell against the hard pavement, his gaze wandered idly towards the shop windows to his left; all the amenities were closed that day and the buildings just seemed out of place, displaying clothes and food and housing goods that could not be sold at that moment. A brightly clothed mannequin caught Loki’s eye and he came to a stop at the window, peering in at the posed figure which was adorned with a long, red scarf. 

A roguish smirk formed on Loki’s lips. Thor had complained multiple times about the chill in the air, and especially now that he’d undergone a reluctant haircut, the blonde man found that his neck was far more vulnerable to the cold weather than usual.

_ So you think I’m predictable, brother? _

The scarf was secured behind the glass window within the locked building, but nothing like that was ever a hindrance to Loki; a Midgardian spring lock was no match for his magic.

Some time later, Loki found himself riding the elevator to the upper levels of Avengers Tower, a glossy-wrapped box in hand containing the object of tonight’s mischievous escapades. When he approached the right floor and stepped out, the audacious noise of music and chatter filled his ears and a brief ripple of indecision rippled through him, wondering just how many people were at Stark’s Christmas party and how many of them were already privy to Loki’s return to Earth. 

Stark wouldn’t invite people if he knew they wouldn’t take Loki’s presence well, right? The CEO was more careful than that, and even he had wanted to reintroduce Loki a little more  _ gradually  _ to the world instead of all at once.

_ No,  _ Loki deduced,  _ this wouldn’t be a problem. _

With his head held high, he walked elegantly down the hall and arrived at the entrance to the main room, which was filled to the brim with  _ people. _ People drinking, dancing, talking loudly and enthusiastically, or quiet and discreetly in the corner of the room - he recognised very few of the guests, but his eyes quickly found Valkyrie by the bar, looking mighty happy as she downed an alcoholic beverage. The Asgardian woman caught sight of him and tipped her head back in acknowledgement, which he respectfully returned with a curt nod.

There seemed to be a few Asgardians at the party, in fact - probably invited by Thor - but apart from that, nobody was familiar to him. Stark and Vision were convening near the centre of the room adjacent to Thor, who was clearly flirting with several women at once -  _ well, go figure, he’s probably been lonely since Jane dumped him  _ \- and Banner seemed to be mingling surprisingly well with others as well.

Someone nearby noticed Loki, and the jovial expression melted from their face - they turned to their friend, pointing him out, and then suddenly, like a wave across the room, people grew quiet as they became aware of his presence. Nervous and apprehensive expressions greeted him as all the chatter in the room died down until only the music played ominously in the background - Loki was right, none of the faces were that of shock or surprise, they were all previously forewarned about his return - and the God of Mischief cracked a smile at the glorious realisation that almost everybody in the room was afraid of him.

Naturally, he delighted in the attention, purposely drawing a maniacal element to his eerie smile that only served to unnerve the room’s occupants further.

“Brother!” Thor’s overjoyed voice echoed throughout the room as the blond saw him, “I didn’t expect to see you here”, the God of Thunder crossed the room as Stark spoke over the music, encouraging people to ignore the once-villain’s presence and instead resume the celebrations. Chatter slowly picked up again as Thor led his brother back to the middle of the room, probably intending to motivate some socialisation within him -  _ like that was going to happen _ .

Loki noticed the way Thor’s gaze dropped down to his hands, and for a moment he assumed Thor had grown interested in the wrapped gift he was holding, but in fact, he realised Thor was staring curiously at his gloved hands. His brother was smart - perceptive enough to know that Loki had no need for the article of clothing, and that before now, he had not worn gloves since returning to Midgard - the blue eyes lingered on them, probably trying to discern why he had them in the first place.

“I won’t be here long”, Loki elucidated, breaking Thor free of his engrossment, “I don’t party with Midgardians.”

Thor seemed disappointed by his clarification and Loki rolled his eyes, flicking his gaze over the various guests surrounding Stark and - an awkward looking teenage boy?

“Hey, I’m Peter Parker”, the boy introduced himself, and an ounce of recognition fed its way into Loki’s mind - this was the kid Stark mentioned often, something about a genius boy with spider-like powers - an  _ apprentice avenger _ of sorts. Loki rose an eyebrow, rather amused by the kid’s willing introduction, and with an eased smile on his face, no less - did he know who Loki was?

“So you’re Loki, huh?” Peter went on to say -  _ well, that answers that _ \- and the boy ran a hair through his neatly side-parted brown hair, ruffling it a little.

“That is correct.” Loki responded bluntly.

“I heard you’re like one of the good guys now?” Peter enquired, brown eyes wide and brimming with curiosity, and Loki’s mouth twitched slightly - there was something about this kid, his apparent openness and lack of fear towards a God who had caused quite a severe number of casualties in the invasion several years back just seemed so  _ funny _ to Loki.

“You heard wrong”, Loki stated, suddenly wishing there was a strong drink in his hand - as amusing as he found the kid, he was not ready to sit and explain his inconsistent alignment and how he’d never affiliate himself with the Avengers, of all people.

“Aw, man. That sucks.” Peter sighed, and the reaction seemed so frivolous that Loki might have laughed - but then he saw the kid reach into his pocket and brandish a phone, “Well can I at least get a selfie with you for Instagram?”

Loki had no earthly idea what  _ instagram _ was, but as if by chance he’d just learnt the definition of a  _ selfie _ that day, and he was far less trusting of Peter than he was with Amelia; leaning down slightly to the boy’s height, Loki kept his face unusually content with a polite smile as he spoke quietly with a far-from-cheerful tone.

“If you take a picture of me, I will squash you like the spider you are.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Loki saw Stark turn his head in their direction, a look of extreme disapproval on his face, and the God of Mischief was vaguely impressed with the CEO’s suddenly incredible hearing - although, the man was viciously protective of the boy, that much was clear, so it was likely Stark had been listening focusedly on their conversation the whole time.

“Oh, yeah, no problem man, I- yeah, I  _ totally _ understand”, Peter shoved the phone back into his pocket, his voice wavering only slightly, but kept his tone light-hearted as if they were long-time friends, despite knowing who Loki was and what he was capable of.

Peter wandered off with a  _ ‘well, see ya’, _ seemingly having gotten over the threat rather quickly, and Loki shrugged in response to Tony’s reproachful glare before rejoining his brother so he could do what he came to do.

Before Loki could grab Thor’s attention, the big, blond man spun around, clutching an unmarked, corked bottle in his hand, “Brother, I have something for you!” The red-liquid filled bottle was shoved into Loki’s face and he took a step back before taking it from Thor’s hand, scrutinising it with confused curiosity.

“What is this?” Loki asked, eyeing the unlabeled bottle; Thor smiled knowingly, a jovial sparkle in his bright blue eyes.

“It’s Asgardian wine, brother”, Thor revealed, “I was given a few of bottles recently by our people out of gratitude, but I prefer ale, and I know how much you  _ love _ wine”, the man let out a booming laugh, and it became clear to Loki at that point that his brother might just be a little bit drunk. It was entirely possible, as he’d just found out that Thor apparently had access to Asgardian alcohol.

Loki was pleased, looking down at the bottle with a blessed look -  _ finally, some real alcohol -  _ and a small, but genuine smile appeared on his face, “Brother, I am pleasantly surprised.”

“Happy Yuletide, Loki!” Thor exclaimed; his high-spirits were evident and it had been a while since Loki had seen his brother so authentically relaxed and enjoying himself. 

It reminded him of the past, again.

Before Loki could allow himself to contemplate the memories foregone for the second time that day, he raised the box he’d been holding on to, offering it to his brother, “Happy Yuletide, Thor.”

The blond man’s blue eyes fell to the present and he quirked an inquisitive eyebrow, taking it from Loki hands to give the exterior wrapping an intrigued examination, before past recollections seemed to catch up with him all at once, and immediately his gaze turned grim and worried - the drastic change in his demeanour was comical.  _ Utter cynicism, _ that was Loki’s description of Thor’s face at that moment.

The God of Thunder cleared his throat, his eyes flickering suspiciously to Loki’s face, trying to suss out the mischievous man’s agenda, but finding nothing - no telltale signs that would solidify his conjecture that whatever was in the neatly wrapped box might attempt to mar his handsome face with various scratches and other unkind, violent blemishes.

Loki could see the dispute in Thor’s mind through the window of his eyes in which the man tried to reason with himself - why would Loki pull a horrible prank on his brother after receiving from him such a lovely gift? -  _ because, you fool, this is Loki we’re talking about _ \- but would he really set free a savage, little creature in a room full of unsuspecting mortals and ruin Stark’s Christmas party? -  _ yes, yes, absolutely yes. _

Eventually, a look of resignation overcame Thor’s face; the expectant look on Loki’s face having pressured the man to open the supposed gift, and Thor, with extreme prudence, tore the wrapping paper from the box and pulled off the lid.

The trepidation on Thor’s face melted away as he found no living, bloodthirsty animal within the box, and instead pulled out a red, soft-cotton scarf.

“Oh…” Thor murmured, eyeing the material with a hint of relief - but that wasn’t to say the suspicion was gone, oh no, the God of Thunder was still very much unsettled by the alleged, thoughtful present his brother had given him.

_ Good,  _ Loki thought, a devious grin on his face - a smirk that Thor did not miss.

“Hm… thank you… brother”, Thor expressed wary gratitude, eyes darting from the gift in his hand to Loki’s definitely-up-to-no-good face.

“You’re welcome, brother. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” Loki turned, crossing the room to leave the rowdy party at once; but not before he snuck one last glance at Thor looking alert and dubiously at the  _ perfectly harmless  _ scarf in his hands - a look that filled Loki with glee.

Because that was the joke.

It was a perfectly normal scarf.

Except Thor would spend the whole evening waiting for the scarf to come to life and strangle him. 

Loki suppressed a laugh. So much for Thor relaxing.

_ Am I still predictable, brother? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I read someone's headcanon that Peter Parker would totally fearlessly approach Loki and ask for a selfie to put on instagram and I just.... couldn't..... help myself...... I guess that was kind of a cracky bit to the story :')
> 
> PLEASE COMMENT!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki gets the full New Year experience.

Humans were ever so odd. 

The more time Loki spent around them, the more he learnt about their cultures. Being forced into a secret identity in which he appeared human in practically all aspects, he was obligated to try and understand  _ existence _ from the point of view of a mortal. Obviously, being an immortal God, it was quite difficult to comprehend the lives of such insignificant creatures, but Loki persevered and  _ tried _ to perceive their thought-patterns and the way they saw themselves in the universe via his various anthropological observations and his fortunate source of research -  _ the internet was actually quite clever, like a huge library in which you could find the specific piece of information you were looking for at just the tap of a button  _ \- and he came to one solid conclusion.

Humans were just  _ so odd. _

They had strange priorities - much different to his own - and Loki found that they loved to celebrate the strangest things.

One year. One year was nothing to Loki. Three-hundred and sixty five days were just a snap of his fingers - it was no time at all, and yet, Loki discovered that to  _ humans,  _ the passing of  _ one year _ was something that was widely commemorated. When he really thought about it, he supposed it made sense - very few humans made it past one-hundred years of age, being the frail souls they were, so Loki could understand how a lot could happen for a human in one year.

But it was such a foreign feeling to actually pay attention to the Midgardian calendar and acknowledge the orbital period of the planet Earth passing around the sun once again - it just seemed so trivial, except all these humans were prepared to jump about and scream their throats raw to mark the coming of the new year.

Loki lifted his eyes from the small device in his hands where he’d spent the last several minutes browsing the  _ Wikipedia  _ page that detailed the concept of ‘New Year’s Day’ -  _ really, he didn’t know why he hadn’t thought to acquire a so-called ‘smartphone’ beforehand, they were truly quite useful, it was surprising that all he’d had to do was simply  _ **_ask_ ** _ Stark for one of the gadgets  _ \- to find the CEO himself crossing the main living quarters with a slight bounce to his step.

“Enjoying your new toy?” Tony enquired, a knowing smirk curling at the corner of his mouth as he spared Loki a brief glance.

“It is unexpectedly useful”, Loki answered, “and the amount of knowledge contained within this -  _ internet  _ \- is… impressive.”

Stark performed a theatrical gesture of shock, pressing his palm to his chest as his mouth dropped open, “Did you just…  _ compliment  _ the human race?”

A derisive snort left Loki’s nose, “Hardly. Your informational network contains merely a sliver of knowledge beyond your realm and could not even compare to the vast library within Asgard’s palace-”

“-Which is now destroyed.” Loki pinned the man with a lethal glare, and Stark quickly followed up with, “Oh, sorry, sore topic?”

“You dare mock the ruination of my home?” Loki’s voice was low and cautionary as Stark moved around the kitchen to the coffee maker.

“From what I heard, it sounds like you had a hand in causing that destruction”, Tony shot back, a hint of jest in his tone and Loki seethed. 

Of course, Stark must’ve heard the tales from Thor - Loki was almost certain that his older brother had drunkenly relayed the narrative of how they, along with Valkyrie and Banner, had defeated Hela by jump-starting Ragnarok - that their overly ambitious sister had perished in the flames that engulfed their land, but only  _ after  _ they had saved all the remaining Asgardian people. The God of Thunder probably hadn’t been entirely eloquent in his explanation, however - Loki could picture it now -  _ ‘and then my dear brother, Loki, burnt the place to a crisp using a couple of useful entities within Asgard’s vault! What a good brother he is!’ _

Rising to his feet, Loki took a step towards Stark, hissing through gritted teeth, “I did not delight in watching Asgard burn, but our people were priority. I did what I had to do.”

Silence fell, apart from the prolonged humming of the coffee maker in front of Tony, and a subtle smile pulled at Stark’s face - not a mocking smile, but one of estimation and understanding - the billionaire’s eyes flickered towards him and then back to his coffee, and he nodded.

“It’s New Year’s Eve”, Tony spoke, and the sudden swivel of the subject almost made Loki dizzy, “and we’re having a party tonight - not like the Christmas party. It’s just a small one, just the gang and a few close friends.”  _ The gang  _ was Tony’s way of endearingly referring to his fellow Avengers, and  _ a few close friends  _ generally meant his fiancee Pepper Potts and whoever else qualified as part of the extended  _ ‘Avengers family’. _

Surveying the man through narrowed eyes, Loki waited for Stark to reveal his point.

“You’re welcome to join us. It’ll be quiet, well - unless Thor gets drunk again - but it’ll be fun”, Stark trailed off with a shrug of his shoulders, giving the God of Mischief a searching glance.

There was little use in trying to weed out the logic of Stark’s thoughts - one moment he was attempting to ridicule Loki and the next moment he was politely inviting him to a soirée for the sake of recreation.

“I’ll have to decline.” Loki responded impassively, sinking back to his seat on the couch with a dismissive air, he returned to his phone and continued to scan the page for interesting fragments of information that might come in handy to have stored away in his brain.

“Spending more time with Amelia?” Tony questioned impishly, a deliberate smile forming on his lips, “You like her, don’t you?”

“Must you bother me with ridiculous questions?” Loki enquired, not lifting his eyes from the device in his palm.

“You know, you’re only deflecting because the answer is  _ yes.”  _ Tony didn’t bother to hide the amusement on his face, “You go to her home almost every other night. What happens? Do you two do each other’s nails and gossip about people you hate?” 

_ Right back to the ridicule, then.  _

No matter, Loki wouldn’t rise to the bait; it was clear Stark was trying to push for details and the only way he thought he could skillfully do such a thing was by getting a rise out of Loki until he angrily gave the game away.

“As a matter of fact,  _ yes,  _ we do talk about people we hate. Just the other day I was telling her all about you.” Loki answered, lip curling waggishly, “We also braid each other’s hair and have pillow fights all night long.”

“Really?”

_ “No,  _ you fool.  _ Obviously  _ not.” Loki snapped with a roll of his eyes, ignoring Stark’s bothersome chuckles.

“What a wonderful mental image that conjured up”, Tony spoke under his breath, “Are you sure you don't actually do that? It sounds so  _ you.” _

Loki clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth with indignation; drowning out the rest of Stark’s infuriating quips as he expounded upon, in his mind, the real reason he found Amelia so likeable in comparison to the rest of humanity.

She was something of an enigma; the initial reason for his pull towards her was to diminish his boredom, but something in his mind told him that wasn’t the reason he continued to spend so much time with her. No, he  _ preferred  _ Amelia’s company to a sparring session with Thor or a celebratory party with the other humans he was acquainted with; in her presence he could drop his wariness and just relax.

Because she didn’t think him a monster.

_ Because she didn’t know he was a monster. _

Perhaps he was undeserving of the kindness Amelia offered him, but as long as she was unaware of Loki’s true identity, did it really matter? He indulged on her goodwill unashamedly, allowing her to continue believing he was just a normal man without any dark secrets.

After Christmas day, he had returned to her like usual, surrounded with an apprehensive mist, wondering if the air around them would sit uncomfortably following the accidental, flirtatious remark he had made last time - but Amelia had greeted him as though the awkward exchange had been forgotten, pushed to the furthest reaches of her mind, like it had never happened. Loki was grateful for that.

She hadn’t tried to hug him again, either. Presumably, she had realised his stiff posture for what it meant - that he’d found the affectionate action wildly discomfiting - and in her consideration, she’d chosen not to impose that on him again.

The phantom scent of vanilla drifted through his nostrils, pleasant and light, as it had been when the smell had been emanating from Amelia’s soft, brown hair during her embrace; he could still feel her palm against his back, its gentle caress producing a tingle that crept down his spine.

Loki shivered involuntarily, electing to ignore the peculiar glance Stark gave him.

* * *

“When did you get a phone?” Amelia asked, her voice raised up a pitch as though she was insulted that Loki hadn’t already informed her of his useful, new implement. He turned the screen away from her, pressing the phone to his chest to hide the fact that he was in the middle of researching both the Gregorian calendar and the Julian calendar, and figuring out just how the two differed, and why there were, in fact, two calendars.

The website,  _ Wikipedia,  _ just seemed to suck him in so easily - especially given he, as someone who enjoyed absorbing knowledge, loved to read just about anything - and he’d quickly found himself tapping multiple hyperlinks on the pages, falling further and further into the extensive digital library.

“Just today”, Loki answered her, and Amelia grinned widely, jumping up to grab her own phone from the table.

“Well why didn’t you tell me sooner? Let’s exchange numbers!”

“Why?” They already saw each other several times a week, why did they need an extra form of communication when they met up so routinely?

“Cause then we can text”, Amelia told him in a rather patronising voice that caused his eyes to narrow.

“Yes, but  _ why?”  _

Amelia’s lips formed a pout and she cocked her head - a subtle, habitual gesture that Loki had categorised in the  _ ‘I want to have my way’  _ mannerisms - and shrugged her shoulders, “Because, maybe, like, something could come up and you might not be able to come over - you wouldn’t have any way of telling me, unless we have each other’s number”, she smiled, wiggling her phone in her hand.

“Nothing will  _ come up”,  _ Loki assured her tersely; he was a little hesitant on sharing the number of his new phone with Amelia, because he could already picture the onslaught of text messages he would receive every second of the day they weren’t physically together.

“You don’t know that”, Amelia lowered her head, looking up at Loki over the rim of her glasses with a somewhat crestfallen look, “the world is unpredictable.”

The words stuck out, and Loki couldn’t help but think there was something else to her statement - she seemed oddly melancholy given her soft tone of voice. Her proclamation gave Loki the idea that being able to contact him, and vice versa, would make her feel more secure and safe.

And suddenly, to Loki, it seemed like a good idea. The apprehension he’d harboured previously over his concern for Amelia’s well-being simmered up from the back of his mind; if she had his phone number, she could contact him if anything happened to her, and he could ensure her safety.

“On one condition”, Loki spoke, “You refrain from bombarding me with pointless messages at all hours of the day”, he stated, and Amelia smiled, a newfound gleam in her bright eyes.

“Yes, of course, I promise I won’t be annoying, James”, she giggled, holding out her hand to take his phone; Loki sighed, quickly closing the browser page before handing it over, and watched as she happily entered her contact details. 

Her eyes shone, Loki noted, when they flickered up briefly to meet his gaze, and her lips stretched into an open-mouthed grin as she pinched her tongue between her teeth; Amelia’s buzzing joy created creases in the corner of her eyes and her face just looked so radiant and alive. 

Amelia’s spirit was unreservedly different to how it had been sixty-one days ago when Loki had met her for the first time in the cemetery. There was a healthy glow to her face, her round cheeks beaming pink with warmth, and her hair was better maintained, silky and shiny - and now that Loki looked at it, he noticed she’d had it trimmed a little, evening out the split ends for a neater appearance. Then there were her eyes, brimming with exuberance - yes, something about her had definitely changed from that initial meeting.

The recollection was clear in his mind, her eyes had been hollow, her face sallow and unhealthy, and her hair had been straw-like; the memory of seeing her in such a state was fortuitously disquieting.

But that was  _ then _ and this is now. She was content and untroubled now, so whatever had happened to her before shouldn’t have bothered Loki, it shouldn’t have been stewing in his mind. And yet it was. He had this unruly inclination to learn why she had seemed so broken -  _ whether or not someone had purposely hurt her  _ \- so that he could make sure it wouldn’t happen again.

Loki’s vision grew sharp as the fog of his musings vanished and he realised, very abruptly, that Amelia’s face was a few inches closer than it had been before; Loki straightened up, leaning away from her ever so slightly.

“What?” he murmured, a touch of alarm in his voice at the lack of distance between them.

“You were, like, staring into the void”, Amelia spoke, eyebrows raised curiously, “Is the alcohol getting to you, James? Are you a spaced-out type of drunk?” she grinned, an amused noise rumbling from the back of her throat.

“Don’t be absurd”, Loki rebuked, giving her shoulder a playful shove, to which Amelia lost her balance and yelped as she hurtled back against the couch, giggling as she went. If anybody here was drunk, it was definitely Amelia; the woman’s movements were fluid and uncoordinated, the smile on her face seemed to be permanent and there was a dazed, intoxicated mist visible in her eyes.

“You like that word, don’t you?” Amelia tittered, brushing her fingers through her hair before she drew her expression into a theatrical scowl and mimicked Loki’s voice as best she could,  _ “Don’t be absurd! Everything is so absurd, except for me. I’m the most un-absurd person in the world. You won’t catch me being absurd. Absurd, absurd, absurd!” _

Yes, she was undoubtedly drunk, or at least on the heavier side of tipsy.

“You know when you say a word so much that it begins to sound like it’s not real? Like a fake word that just shouldn’t exist? That’s what’s up with the word ‘absurd’.” She bit her lip to try and contain her broad grin and continued to speak, “It’s pretty absurd when you think about it.”

Loki breathed a long sigh, tilting his head back against the soft cushions on the couch as he fought to roll his eyes at Amelia’s senseless, inebriated mumblings. He picked up his phone, which had slipped from Amelia’s hands as she fell, and placed it in his pocket, glancing across the sofa to find the woman covering her mouth mid-yawn, her eyes scrunched up tightly.

“Tired already?” Loki enquired with a hint of amusement, “It’s only ten minutes to midnight.”

A couple of seconds passed before Amelia’s eyes shot open and she jumped up, “It’s almost midnight already!?” she rounded the coffee table, almost stumbling as she did so and pulled open the curtains covering the floor-to-ceiling windows, “Damnit, I gotta go pee. Hold on!” she scrambled across the room, disappearing through the door to the bathroom, leaving Loki in a vague state of confusion over her abnormal behaviour.

He stood, drink in hand, and made his way over to the window, peeking out curiously; he wondered what exactly had pushed Amelia into frantic motion and why she had thrown open the usually-closed curtains with such vigour.

Loki was greeted with the sight of Manhattan’s skyline, the inky blackness of the sky a stark contrast from the buildings below, which were alight with life. Even he could appreciate the view.

Downing the rest of his drink, Loki turned around to place the glass back on the table; as he straightened up, his eyes flickered to the closed door down the hallway and he tilted his head in quiet observation. 

The mysterious door to the mysterious room, shrouded in  _ mystery.  _ What was in there? Loki wanted to know; the budding desire to reveal what was hiding within was only present due to Amelia’s brusque statement in response to his prying:  _ ‘It’s locked for a reason.’ _

_ But what reason? _

Before he knew it, his feet had led him closer and he reached out with unrestrained curiosity, turning the knob gingerly.

_ Still locked. _

Loki’s eyes narrowed and bent down, scanning the silver-coloured doorknob with overt attentiveness; if there was one thing Loki had noticed about Amelia, it was that she was a clean-freak. The apartment was practically spotless and everything was neat and tidy in its place - not a speck of dust in sight and every surface was wiped down to glossiness.

Except... the doorknob on this particular door was dulled, unpolished, and there was grime trapped in the gaps between the screw heads. Loki’s eyebrows furrowed; the question of  _ why  _ prodded at his mind - why had Amelia neglected to burnish the doorknob on this particular door when every other door knob and handle was shined to perfection?

_ Click. _

The sound of the bathroom door unlocking caught his attention, and in two long strides, Loki moved before the bookcase and pretended to, rather innocently, examine Amelia’s collection of novels.

“James, over here!” Amelia squeaked, eyeing the clock as she floundered towards the window, “Quick, quick, quick! We only have three minutes!”

“Three minutes until what, exactly?” Loki questioned, making his way leisurely towards the window despite Amelia’s urging tone.

“Till midnight. Duh. It’s going to be the new year in less than three minutes!” She exclaimed, teetering around the room; she grabbed two cushions from the couch and placed them down beside the window, motioning for Loki to sit down. He hesitantly did so, not entirely happy at being made to sit on the floor, and watched Amelia race around to turn off the light switches spaced around the room, until it was as dark as the night sky.

Amelia reappeared at his side, grinning stupidly, before she let out a soft  _ ‘oh’  _ sound and, as an afterthought, jumped up to grab her half-filled glass from the table. She propped herself down on the pillow beside Loki, sitting cross-legged, and quickly checked the time on her phone.

“One minute”, she informed, her voice significantly softer than it had been just a few moments prior, as though the darkness in the room had had a seemingly placative effect on her, stimulating the need for tranquility.

“What are we waiting for?” Loki asked, responding in a similarly hushed tone.

Amelia’s incredulous expression greeted him and he could see, even through the darkness of the room, that there was excitement in her eyes.

“You don’t know?” She whispered, and Loki was sure his perplexed expression was enough of an answer for her. “Just watch”, she instructed, pointing a finger out the window, and Loki returned his gaze to the outside, wondering whether or not Amelia had reached the phase of intoxication where everything was toppling over in her mind with nonsensical, awry thoughts.

“Fifteen seconds”, Amelia whispered some time later, bouncing slightly on her cushion; Loki hoped there would be at least a little pay-off to the building suspense in his chest because Amelia seemed to be gearing up for something big.

“Ten, nine, eight-”

But what could be so exciting? It was just Manhattan, after all.

“Seven, six, five-”

Amelia still seemed sober enough to count accurately, at the very least.

“Four, three, two-”

The anticipation grew to a peak and Loki did not move.

“One.”

For just a moment, nothing happened; Loki could not hear a thing, not even the sound of Amelia’s breathing. But then, something cut through the air, dividing the darkness with an excruciatingly high-pitched whistling sound, and it culminated at the height of it’s ascent with an explosion of colour.

Then, suddenly, the sky was filled with them. Great, lively bursts of light, painting the darkness like newly-bloomed flowers, each accompanied with crackles and bangs, vivid and evocative of wonder. 

Loki released the breath he realised he’d been holding, his lips parting in awe as the sight filled him with a pleasant rush of adrenaline, and he smiled.

_ Fireworks, of course.  _ Humans were clearly just as fond of their spectacular shows as Asgardians were.

Something brushed his fingers, and his gaze dropped to his hand, which was resting innocuously against his own knee; Amelia’s own fingers covered his, and he looked discerningly at her to find her attention was stuck solely to the illuminations ahead. Her digits, warm and inviting, left tingles on his skin like they had before, and he swallowed at the sensation as she curled them around to press into his palm. He remained unstirring for a brief time, watching as her thumb stroked over his knuckles, until he relented his hand to her, allowing her to grasp it firmly.

His eyes flicked up to her face, which was still centered on the clamorous light-show, and observed the virtuous curl of her smile, bathed with pure contentment, as her eyes flashed, reflecting the flares of rainbow-hues in the sky. Nothing but pure, unadulterated joy in her expression.

A turbulent emotion stirred within his chest and Loki realised something then; an unconfined thought, something which had not occurred to him before, barreling through his mind without the desire to yield or slacken.

_ She was gorgeous. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FLUFF! SWEETNESS! AHH, I LOVE WRITING CUTE BITS!
> 
> Please remember to leave a comment letting me know what you like most! Also, if you have any fluffy suggestions, I might be able to fit them in ahead for what I've got planned ;)


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki jumps to conclusions and overthinks the hell out of everything.

Loki was unsettled.

He’d stared at Amelia all night, averting his gaze only when she faced him, and he still couldn’t figure out what was different about her. Something had changed - something  _ had  _ to have changed. He scanned her almost fervently, taking in every tiny detail from her head to her feet and yet  _ nothing  _ seemed out of place. She was the same, in every physical aspect, as she had been the first day they’d met - save for some more appropriate clothing, a good night’s sleep and a smile.

If a smile was all it took for Loki to find a mortal attractive then  _ by the Gods, _ he was glad a large majority of humans regarded him with fear.

_ That would be ridiculous. _ Amelia’s smile was as bright as the sun, but it wasn’t the source of Loki’s unforeseen attraction to her. No. She had smiled at him the second time they’d crossed paths and he hadn’t felt such a reaction; he’d been indifferent towards her then, merely searching for a way to alleviate his boredom, and he remembered, very specifically, thinking that Amelia was as plain and austere as they came.

_ So what had changed!? _

Loki brooded silently as he lounged above the covers on his bed, tugging absently at the cotton material of his nightshirt in order to try and distract his disarranged thoughts. It was mortifying enough to admit in his mind that he found a Midgardian physically attractive, but to dwell on that thought in an attempt to figure out  _ why  _ only served to vex him. It was a convoluted feeling - difficult to acknowledge that he simply found Amelia’s looks appealing - and it was far more comforting to think that the woman was some sort of spellcaster or enchantress who had bewitched his mind through some form of lecherous magic.

Loki blinked.  _ Wait, why would that be comforting? _

He certainly hoped Amelia wasn’t actually a sorceress capable of placing spells on his mind without his awareness. She may have been human, but Loki had  _ unfortunately  _ had the pleasure of meeting Doctor Strange, so while it seemed implausible that Amelia could possess such powers, it wasn’t impossible.

_ But, still…  _

It seemed far more believable to Loki that he was caught in the middle of a baffling magic spell intent on increasing his desire towards Amelia’s form, and that he wasn’t just left dazed by her striking smile for no reason in particular.

With a groan of exasperation, Loki pinched the bridge of his nose in an effort to pacify his thoughts; figuring that perhaps things would be clearer when he woke up the next morning.

* * *

 

Things were not any clearer when he woke up the next morning, nor did they become clearer as the day went on. The bewilderment of his feelings left Loki inattentive to his surroundings and the occupants of Avengers Tower had begun to notice his oddly quiet disposition. He may have seemed placid - sitting off to the corner, staring out the window as though something extremely interesting had caught his eye outside, not responding with witty retorts to Stark’s endlessly teasing remarks - but on the inside, his thoughts and emotions were buzzing, trying to make sense of his irrational inclination towards the mortal woman.

It wasn’t like it was the first time he’d felt attraction to another being - Asgard was full of beautiful people, that much had become apparent to Loki during his teenage years - but somehow,  _ those  _ desires had felt natural to him. There was something about this bizarre pull he felt towards Amelia that left him uneased - there was something there. A sensation he was wholly unfamiliar with.

_ The fact that he was feeling this way over a human, just - ugh. _

It had to just be some passing infatuation that would soon melt away and cease to torment him; there was nothing else it could be. 

It had been a while since he’d lain with another person, and now that there was nothing to distract him from his subdued carnal urges -  _ no attempts to overthrow a king and take the crown for his own, no attempts to conquer a planet and enslave its inhabitants, no dangerously mad siblings to defeat in order to ensure the safety of his people _ \- his lustful appetite had decided to rear its ugly head, endeavouring to topple his perfectly constructed manner and leave him thoroughly perplexed.

Loki sighed. Clearly, there was only one solution in sight.

For the sole purpose of removing his baffling desires from the picture, he would have to act on them. The only qualms Loki had was whether such  _ activities _ would drastically change things between the two of them - he had already admitted to himself that he enjoyed Amelia’s company in its simplest form; merely being with her in her apartment and having a drink was enough to reduce the more negative feelings and thoughts left unforgotten in the corner of his mind - and he did not want that to end.

Casual sex didn’t mean much in Asgard, especially for a prince - it was simply something to do when the impulse arose, and there was always _someone_ willing and ready to jump into his bed with him when he so desired. 

Thor was always ridiculously rowdy over his sexual conquests, always bragging about how many women he had bedded while everybody else in the room inwardly rolled their eyes and pretended to be impressed. Loki had been far more reserved and confidential with things like that, and as a result, his brother had taunted him, trying to get him to admit that he was inferior when it came to seducing others to his bed. In truth, Loki had probably slept with far more people than his brother had, he just didn’t feel the need to boast about it.

Of course, Thor had changed a lot since then. Loki highly doubted his brother would swank on about his sexual affairs anymore - the golden-haired prince had long since matured into a worthy king, and obtained a more respectful approach when it came to any lewd pursuits.

_ And thank the Gods for it. _

Loki had no desire to listen to Thor gloat about private, venereal matters; he had his own issues to deal with.

With a shudder of dismay, the God of Mischief let his thoughts trail back to his cause for concern: Amelia. Casual sex was inconsequential in Asgard,  _ but humans were different _ \- he had already experienced Amelia’s demure and shy attitude towards his accidental flirtatious remark, and even before that when she had drunkenly teased him before realising the words she had spoken.

It was safe to say Amelia would naturally be bashful and timorous if Loki tried to openly woo her, which would just serve to slow things down and frustrate him - he wanted to rectify this immediately, as soon as possible, and he couldn’t do that if Amelia withdrew every time he seeked to advance.

He needed to loosen her up a bit, but even when she was tipsy, Amelia had still appeared utterly reticent toward his inadvertent teasing. She’d probably have to be drunk and completely free of inhibitions to fall willingly for his charms and allow him to take her to bed.

But  _ no.  _ Ugh. Gods, no. That was not Loki’s style. Loki wouldn’t plummet to such a low level and get Amelia drunk just to sleep with her; he was more talented in his seductions than that, and he preferred his bed partner to be sober so that they could both enjoy it to the fullest.

No, he was known for having a Silvertongue for a reason. He could be incredibly persuasive, and he had confidence in his ability to entice and allure - he would have Amelia without the aid of alcohol and then he could put his unexplained attraction to her behind him.

* * *

 

Some things were better said than done.

Loki had marched up to Amelia’s apartment all captivating smiles and graceful movements, ready to speak his sultry words and lure Amelia into a ravishing situation while ensuring she was enthusiastic and willing,  _ but… _

One look at her honey-toned eyes, brimming with cheeriness, her beguiling grin, and the sound of her sweet exclamation of “James!” upon opening the door, and Loki completely lost his nerve.

The suddenness with which his broiling confidence was replaced with dread left him momentarily frozen and he blinked, swallowing thickly to try and restore his composure.

_ Never  _ had this happened to him - at least not in this situation. He had  _ never  _ wanted to retreat when it came to luring a partner into sex; he had no idea what was wrong with him. The buzzing feeling of tension only begun to vibrate harder when Amelia cocked her head in concern and asked him if he was okay.

_ “Fine”, _ he snapped a little too aggressively, before he straightened up, clearing his throat to repeat, “I’m fine”, with a tad more friendly assurance.

“You sure? There’s a rigidness to your posture that suggests…” her eyes flickered down his body in an innocent, completely harmless way, and yet it still sent a tremor up his spine that concluded as a tickle at the base of his neck, “...something’s up.”

“Nothing is  _ up”,  _ he murmured, a hint of sarcasm to his tone, “I’m perfectly fine”, he motioned to the couch, encouraging her to drop the matter and advance the night as it usually played out. Amelia thankfully let it go, pivoting in place to make a dash for the bar - as usual - and Loki let his eyes drag over her form, hoping to retrieve his bearings and find the gall to actually follow through with what he intended to do.

Something he had noticed about Amelia was that she rarely wore anything tight on her upper body, he had only seen her wearing a form-fitting blouse once, but every other encounter she appeared to favour a loose or puffy sweater. Currently, she was wearing just that - a slack, knitted jumper, the colour of pastel blue, that hung surprisingly low on her shoulders, revealing a hint of her lightly protruding collarbone, but one that refused to show off the roundness of her bust.

It wasn’t too much of a grievance for Loki; he was sure he’d see that part of her again soon, besides, there were other angles from which to admire Amelia from. While her tops were oversized, her trousers were absolutely not. Tight jeans hugged her legs, accentuating the curves of her ass and the plumpness of her thighs.

Funny. He hadn’t really thought to pay much attention to her body before now. She had some… valuable assets.

“Same as usual, James?” Amelia called as she rounded the counter and plucked up a bottle of red wine, holding it up for him to see.

“Of course”, Loki spoke, resolving to remove his jacket and recline on the sofa; propping his feet up and crossing them at the ankles, he slung his arm over the back of the couch and channeled the picturesque image of confidence.

He could do this, no problem. He was a God. She was a human. He was known for his magnetism and manipulative Silvertongue. She was timid and coy and absolutely no match for his charm.

“Here you go, James”, Amelia popped down onto the couch beside him, offering him his glass of wine. Loki took his beverage delicately by the stem and gave Amelia a divine smile, pushing all of his charisma into his expression.

“Thank you, Amelia”, he spoke softly, his voice audibly lower than usual, and Loki felt a wave of triumph within himself as Amelia shyly dropped her gaze, a light pink tinge appearing on her cheeks.

As she dipped her head, an errant curl slipped down into her face, and Loki seized the opportunity to perform the  _ classic  _ coquettish move of brushing her hair from her eyes - he even snuck in a gentle caress of her cheek with the back of his fingers. Amelia looked up, a hint of alertness in her eyes as Loki tucked the strand of hair back behind her ear and once again, under Amelia’s virtuous gaze, Loki grew still.

She was so close; her body was angled towards him and her knee brushed ever so slightly against his own.  _ She was so close,  _ he could see the flecks of gold in her brown irises dotted sparingly around her pupils and the reflective gloss of her eyes shining under the lounge light. Loki watched as she blinked a few times quickly, her long lashes fluttering with the movement, and  _ maybe  _ the gesture was entirely unintentional, but for something that should’ve been innocuous, he was loathe to admit that it had an unanticipated effect on him.

And then, she moved her hand, brushing her fingertips against his leg with harmless purpose, her touch so light that it took him a moment to discern it.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Amelia asked him, the trace of concern in her voice not lost on Loki’s ears.

His jaw clenched as he tried to steel himself; that unbidden wave of foreign emotion rushing through him against his will. There was something so utterly guileless about the way her fingers pressed into the material of his slacks, and in the striking silence of the room as they shared their extended gaze, the sound of Loki’s quickened pulse thudded deafeningly in his ears.

He could  _ not  _ do this.

“Stop.” He spoke suddenly, his voice breaking the peaceful quietness around them, and Amelia blinked, confusion filling her eyes.

“Don’t do that”, Loki demanded when she didn’t immediately retract her hand; he looked down and shifted his leg pointedly, which prompted an understanding from Amelia. She pulled her hand back without another moment of hesitation and an apologetic look overcame her, a subtle modicum of upset sinking beneath her eyes.

“I’m sorry, I- I didn’t mean…” she trailed off as Loki removed his arm from the back of the couch and ran his hand over his leg, straightening out the fine indent in the fabric. He cleared his throat, bringing the glass of wine to his lips as he adjusted himself in his seat till he was sat upright and not leaning marginally towards Amelia as he had been.

“I’m sorry”, Amelia repeated, mimicking the movement until she was outside of his personal bubble, a mix of awareness and puzzlement in her eyes.

Loki shook his head, releasing a sigh; he wasn’t angry with Amelia in the slightest, and yet she was quick to apologise for her forwardness. No, he was angry because of his own indecision and apparent,  _ sudden, _ lack of ability to charm another being. A small niggling sensation prodded deeply in his mind, telling him to back off and refrain from manipulating Amelia in such a way; but  _ why?  _ He’d never had any misgivings about his artful exploitations before - not with anybody else - but  _ one  _ innocent gesture from Amelia left him reverberating with…

He placed the feeling.  _ Guilt. _

He felt guilty about what he’d intended to do.

The realisation hit him like a bolt of lightning. He couldn’t bring himself to utilise Amelia in such an intimate way for his own personal gain; if he wanted his incomprehensible attraction towards the woman to disappear then he’d have to find another way to diminish it, as opposed to using her to satiate his desire.

“What’s your New Year’s resolution?” the forced cheerfulness in Amelia’s voice drew his attention, and Loki blinked a few times, unsure of what she was asking.

“My what?”

“Your New Year’s resolution”, she repeated herself, as if that brought any more clarity to her enquiry, “My resolution is… to go outside more. I spend a lot of time in my apartment and I don’t think it’s good for me”, she smiled, though the slight crookedness to the corner of her mouth gave Loki the impression that it wasn’t entirely genuine.

From her statement, he could just about extrapolate the general gist of what a  _ New Year’s resolution  _ was, and took another sip of his wine before shrugging his shoulders, “I don’t have a… resolution.”

Amelia nodded, a soft hum emanating from the back of her throat, “Can I make a suggestion?” she asked hesitantly, her voice giving an upwards lilt at the end of her sentence, and Loki knew her tone all too well. 

He turned to face her, his eyes narrowed as he caught the restrained scrunch of her nose and mouth which mostly occurred when she was trying to hide an impish smirk. He entertained her, prompting her to speak with a nod of his head, though he knew what was coming.

“Well, for your resolution you could…” Amelia shrugged her shoulders theatrically, averting her mischievous eyes, pretending to think about her advice, “...invest in a new wardrobe, perhaps? Get a little variety in your attire?”

_ And there it is. _

Loki rolled his eyes, having seen her teasing comment coming a mile off. There were only a handful of things she could have said, but of course she took another jab at his recurrent clothing choice. His lips curled in amusement, relenting to Amelia’s playful mockery; he had to admit, he was relieved for the human idiosyncrasy of breaking tension with humour - despite being the butt of her jokes, Amelia’s little dig at him had made him feel a little less awkward.

“Or you could find a way to loosen up”, Amelia added after her giggles ceased, “You seem stressed about something…” her words were more serious now and Loki breathed a huff of acknowledgement.

Perhaps he did need to relieve the tension in his shoulders, but very few things could provide that soothing abatement for him. He could spar more with his brother - that would certainly remedy a lot of the frustration building up in his mind, but that would lead to spending more time with the curious God of Thunder who was always so  _ nosy  _ about what he’s been up to. 

Really, the less time Thor had to question him about Amelia, the better.

“You look a little lost”, Amelia remarked, a knowing smile on her face, “You have trouble finding ways to relax? I know  _ exactly _ how you feel.”

“Oh?” Loki pressed, quirking an eyebrow.

“Mm. Alcohol helps me unwind, though. Why do you think I drink so much of it?” she snorted, a somewhat sardonic timbre to her voice.

Loki’s eyes fell to the almost empty glass in his hand; while he relished the familiar, fruity taste of the red wine, the alcohol content was so meagre that it did nothing to lessen the knot in his muscles, nor did it plant that satisfying buzz into his mind that was always so joyfully pleasant when he used to drink during feasts in Asgard.

Like a lightbulb pinging to life in his brain, he suddenly recalled the gift he’d so graciously received from his brother on Christmas day; the Asgardian wine Thor had thrust into his hands with uproarious merriment was still placed safely in the drawer beside his bed back at Avengers Tower. He hadn’t forgotten about it, but he’d felt compelled to save it for a more special occasion.

However, the thought of indulging in the strong wine while in Amelia’s presence sounded… fun. Not only that, but perhaps it could aid in overcoming the tension that had set in his body the past few days whenever thoughts of the woman trickled through his mind.

_ Oh, this could be very fun indeed. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's this baffling divide in Loki's mind concerning what he feels for Amelia. Let's hope he figures out the missing pieces of the puzzle soon, eh? ;) I'm hoping to have a bit of a change in scenery starting a few chapters from now - I feel like having every scene with Loki and Amelia taking place in her apartment is completely redundant, so if you have any ideas for places the two of them could go together, then do offer your suggestions!
> 
> Who's up for a little tipsy Loki in the next chapter, huh? ;D 
> 
> Please leave a comment and let me know what you think! Whether you enjoyed this chapter or not, I would love to hear feedback (but please be kind if you have criticisms! I am so sensitive lmao).
> 
> And finally, if anybody wants to follow me on tumblr, hit me up: kumikoseph.tumblr.com  
> I like to reblog a million posts of Loki/Tom Hiddleston and other Marvel characters/actors ;)


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do y'all wanna know what my life is? I occasionally just wake up for no reason at 3am and instead of trying to get back to sleep, I spend a couple hours planning future chapters and possible sequels to this fic by taking notes on my phone. 
> 
> Oh yah. Sequel. I've got a sequel planned for this fic already ;) It's not going to be as long as this story is, in fact I currently have ideas to make it only six chapters long EXCEPT, the chapters are going to be longer in length at probably 6000+ words? But the fic length could totally become way longer when it comes to actually writing it. Also it's gonna be humorous. And there's gonna be action! And fluffiness of course!!
> 
> Anyway, without further ado, ENJOY THIS ONE DARLINGS ;)

 

Loki knew when he uncorked the bottle of Asgardian wine and poured himself a glass that it was inevitable the ever curious Amelia would enquire about it; in fact, it was rather comical, like the ears of a hunted deer perking up at the sound of a snapping twig in an otherwise ominous silence - except it was Amelia’s ears, and the sound of sloshing liquid as opposed to a twig.

The soft melody of Amelia’s humming paused as she looked up across the couch, her eyes landing quizzically upon the deep crimson liquid as it streamed from the unmarked bottle into the receptacle; her gaze flicking between Loki and the ‘mysterious’ beverage.

“What’s that?” Amelia asked, finally, and Loki smirked, placing the bottle down to pick up his drink; he brought it first to his nose to breathe in the spicy-fruity scent of the solution, and then to his lips where he took a small, savouring sip.

The rush of nostalgia was instantaneous and far more powerful in triggering spontaneous memories than the human equivalent was; he swallowed the wine, the tangy undertones piquant as it trailed down his throat and left a satisfying warmth in its wake. Loki recalled the delight of one of the more favoured tricks he’d played on his brother many years ago. It had been early afternoon when he, his brother, Sif and the Warriors Three had returned from an easy mission; Thor had been retelling of the moment he’d crushed the skulls of three separate enemies in the span of just a few seconds with his raw strength -  _ as if they hadn’t all been there to see it happen  _ \- and he’d been midway through downing a large goblet of ale when Loki had used his magic to cunningly transmute the remaining liquid in Thor’s chalice into goat’s milk.

It had been entirely unanticipated on Thor’s part, and the sudden juxtaposition of flavours mingling together had caused him to gag and regurgitate, coughing foamy cream all over himself, leaving him with a very soppy, white beard. Sif had been quick to recoil from her place opposite the golden-haired prince, avoiding the repulsive shower of spittle, and Thor had proceeded to retch for several minutes, cursing Loki’s name with the promise of revenge, all the while the God of Mischief had struggled not to snort wine out of his nose amongst his vicious laughter.

“This is mine.” Loki answered, licking his lips to make sure he didn’t miss a single drop.

Amelia’s eyes narrowed, her gaze settling on the amused smirk playing across Loki’s mouth, and gave the man a pointed look, “Well, can I have some?”

“Absolutely not.”

Amelia’s inquisitive smile melted into a formidable pout, a scandalised expression taking over her face that Loki surmised was far from serious.

“What, why not?” Amelia whined, cocking her head as she stared him down; and Loki chuckled to himself over her childish response.

“This is far too strong for you”, he told her, and it wasn’t a lie. The whole bottle of Asgardian wine could bring Loki,  _ a god, _ to the level of moderate tipsiness; he knew not what kind of effects the alcohol would have on a mortal, but if he had to approximate, he supposed one small glass would be enough to knock the woman out for a good few hours.

“Are you kidding?” Amelia protested, watching on as Loki took another small mouthful, “Too strong for  _ me?  _ Do you know who you’re talking to?”

Loki quirked an eyebrow at the brawn of her response, her words draped with such a powerful sass that it almost reminded him of himself; he smiled knowingly.

“Your alcohol tolerance may be high, but trust me, you will not like this.”

This time, Amelia crossed her arms, puffing out her chest with indignation, as if it could make her look even the tiniest bit intimidating. “Can I  _ maybe  _ figure that out myself?”

A soft chuckle rumbled in Loki’s throat and he shook his head, “You will not like it”, he repeated matter-of-factly and Amelia gave and overdramatic roll of her eyes.

“Come on, James! After all the alcohol I’ve shared with you, you won’t even let me  _ try  _ your…” she paused as she once again regarded the bizarre, labelless bottle, “...extremely strong  _ homebrew?”  _ She wiggled her fingers comically as she spoke, a facetious edge to her voice.

Again, Loki shook his head. He wouldn’t allow himself to be swayed by Amelia’s attempt to guilt-trip him, even as she puckered her lips in a saddened expression, tilted her head and widened her eyes till they were glossy behind her glasses. She even tried to bat her eyelids for the finishing touch to her adorable venture in manipulation.

“No.” Loki told her, even as his stern resolve splintered ever-so-slightly.

“Please, James! Can’t I just have a taste?” the dulcet tone of Amelia’s voice was far too saccharine for Loki’s ears and he released an audible sigh, having to push down the unusual sensation in his chest that arose just from her imploring words.

Amelia’s eyes shined with victory, much to his dismay, as though she knew already that she’d succeeded in changing his mind. 

“Fine. One sip. Nothing more.”

As if her triumphant expression wasn’t enough, Amelia clenched her hand in a not-so-subtle fist pump and Loki rolled his eyes in response, “You’re not going to like it”, he told her a third time, and the woman  _ actually  _ stuck her tongue out at him.

“Tch. How bad can it be?” Amelia asked rhetorically, holding out a hand expectantly.

Loki eyed her a moment longer, before offering his glass to her, trusting she wouldn’t down the whole thing in one gulp in an effort to appear smug and self-congratulatory. Amelia took it, scanning the contents with an observant eye, as if trying to deduce from sight alone what kind of ingredients had formed the liquid.

She brought it to her lips and Loki waited in anticipation as she sipped the Asgardian wine; the seconds ticked by slowly in which Amelia assimilated the taste in her mouth, before she abruptly thrust the glass back into Loki’s grasp and covered her lips with her hands.

“What the  _ fuck?”  _ she groaned after she’d reluctantly swallowed the mouthful, her face scrunched up in disgust, “What is  _ in that?”  _

“I told you, you wouldn’t like it.” Loki spoke, an amused chuckle breezing past his lips as he watched the woman fan her mouth and make choked noises of displeasure.

“Oh God, it’s worse than straight vodka!” Amelia cried, her voice a tad frantic,  _ “In fact,  _ I might have to wash that down with straight vodka,  _ just to take the edge off!”  _ She joked rather forcefully through the abhorrent taste in her mouth, which caused Loki to laugh aloud, throwing his head back in hilarity.

“I tried to warn you”, Loki tittered, “But you just didn’t listen.”

“How can you stomach that?” Amelia whined, swallowing repeatedly to try and banish the burning taste from her mouth; her face had grown red and she looked as though she was suffering. Loki almost felt bad for laughing at her.  _ Almost. _

The wine may have had an overwhelming, nauseating taste for a human, but for Loki it tasted only of home.  
  


* * *

 

Loki was three and a half glasses of wine deep when Amelia moved suddenly, hopping up from the couch to place her drink down on the coffee table; for the first time in a long while Loki felt pleasantly buzzed, the strong alcohol having done its job in mellowing him out a little, and for around an hour now, he had sat patiently, waiting for the consoling warmth to spread throughout his body and ease the tension from his muscles. 

Amelia stretched, a pleasured moan falling from her lips as her back clicked when she raised her arms, and Loki’s eyes darted down of their own accord to the small of her back where her sweater had ridden up, revealing soft and pale skin.

“How s’about some music?” Amelia suggested, crossing the room to reach the small set of speakers resting on the dresser, and it was clear from the vague slurring of her words that even the one sip of Asgardian wine had been enough to affect her - still, at least she was able to walk.

“Do you dance, James?” She cast him a toothy grin over her shoulder as she pulled her phone from her pocket and set it in the dock.

With a soft exhale through his nose, Loki chuckled, “Absolutely not.” He wasn’t drunk enough for  _ that. _

“What a shame.” Amelia smiled, tapping the screen of her phone as she cycled through several songs, each of them apparently not appropriate enough for her current mood. Loki listened, hanging on to the first few notes of every song she skipped through - Midgardian music was far,  _ far,  _ different than the songs he’d grown up with on Asgard. He was used to choirs of men and women singing of battles from wars of the past, the strong baritone of men’s voices and the high melodies of the women’s conjoining to form some of his favourite tales. The music of Asgard relied more heavily on singing and less on instruments whereas humans seemed to be liberal when it came to throwing in a vast array of different musical implements.

Though, the first few notes of some of the songs Amelia passed did sound pleasing to his ears. There were soft and melodic keys of a piano that were accompanied by a soprano women’s voice, followed by loud and harsh guitar chords, followed by a man and a woman launching into a romantic duet, and then something with flutes and light percussion. Amelia’s music collection seemed to hold a vast range of different sounds, but Loki was growing somewhat irritated with the fact she was just flicking through them.

“Ah”, Amelia breathed, finally deciding on a song, and the sound of drums, piano keys and guitar strings emanated from the speakers rhythmically. The woman smiled as she spun round and started bouncing to the music, meeting Loki’s cynical look with a challenging glance.

“Don’t give me that look! Just cause I can dance and you can’t!” She giggled, swaying with what Loki assumed was drunkenness - though it could’ve just been her mediocre dance skills.

“I never said I couldn’t dance. I just said I don’t dance.” Loki stated, raising his voice slightly to beat the volume of the music, “Besides,  _ that  _ isn’t dancing.”

He gestured to Amelia as she began to spin and take overly complicated steps with her feet, seemingly improvising as she went along, before holding a dramatic stance, joining the vocals as they started up.

_ “They came at night, leaving fear behind. Shadows were on the ground. Nobody knew where to find him, no evidence was found-”  _ Amelia’s voice was surprisingly strong, and in-tune, as she sang along with the performer in the recording, jumping about in her supposed attempt to sway with the music,  _ “‘I’m never coming back’, they heard him cry, and I believed him. Well, he never meant to do anything wrong, it’s gonna get worse if he waits too long!” _

Her exaggerated arm movements and unnecessary pointing made her look ridiculous, and she appeared as though she was reenacting a theatrical stage performance as opposed to singing and dancing to a song; Loki felt  _ embarrassed  _ just watching her, but at the same time it was undeniably entertaining, and a smile graced his lips.

_ “Billy, Billy don’t you lose my number, cause you’re not anywhere that I can find you! Oh, now, Billy, Billy don’t you lose my number-  _ ow, fuck!” She had gotten a little too caught up in her dance and rendition that she had misjudged the distance between her foot and the coffee table when she’d kicked her leg out.

While she hopped in place and hissed through the pain of her stubbed toe, Loki grabbed ahold of his bottle of wine which had almost been knocked off balance. “Careful!” he snickered, steadying it as he placed it down again, “You’re out of control.”

“I totally am  _ not  _ out of control!” Amelia protested, returning to her unbridled dance moves with a slight limp to her foot; she continued to sing as the second verse began,  _ “Searching through the day and into the night, they wouldn’t stop till they found him. They didn’t know him and they didn’t understand. They never asked him why!”  _

Loki kept his eyes on Amelia as she twirled round the back of the couch, shaking his head at her drunken wildness.

_ “‘Get out of my way’, they heard him shout, then a blinding light. Oh, all I could see was him running down the street, out of the shadows and into the night!” _ She sang, coming around to Loki’s other side; this time she didn’t spring into the chorus as it began, but instead she bobbed in place before him, giving him a teasing smile.

“Dance with me”, she spoke, beckoning him to stand with a wiggle of her finger.

“No”, Loki objected, shaking his head in dissent. Amelia bit her lip, pushing her lips out in another calculating and crafty little pout.

“But you said you can dance!” She whined,  _ “Come on,  _ don’t be boring!” 

When Loki’s eyes narrowed, unaffected by her goading, Amelia’s face grew a tad roguish and she leaned down over him, resting one hand against the back of the couch to steady herself while the digits of her free hand clasped his tie. She tugged it gently, effectively pulling him just a little bit closer, and Loki’s eyes widened minutely as his gaze darted questioningly across her face.

“If you’re so sure you can dance, then why don’t you show me how it’s done?”

Loki swallowed, his movements slow and precise as he extracted his tie from Amelia’s hand, holding hard eye contact as he knocked back the remainder of the wine in his glass. He stood, placing the empty receptacle on the table as he rose, and Amelia took a step back as he towered intimidatingly above her.

Without a word, he turned and strode towards the speakers, his unreadable expression inciting a protest from Amelia as though she believed he was going to halt the music. Instead, he tapped the ‘next’ button, skipping several loud or fast-paced songs until he found one that was suitable.

Harmonious guitar strings sounded, a sweet and fitting tempo, and Loki turned back to Amelia, holding out his hand. The God of Mischief found uninhibited delight in the way Amelia’s eyebrows shot up in surprise; clearly, she had not expected this, but moved towards him without objection. 

She took his hand -  _ with the wrong hand; clearly she had never Waltzed before _ \- and Loki restrained a roll of his eyes, positioning her left hand on his right shoulder before taking her right hand in his left. Amelia swallowed nervously, her eyes darting briefly to their feet and back up to Loki’s face; watching a smug smirk come over his features.

His right hand took its place, trailing with a feather-light touch up her side to rest high on her back, and he felt Amelia give an involuntary tremble at the contact.

“I can  _ not _ dance like this”, Amelia breathed, an anxious giggle escaping her mouth.

“Darling, you cannot dance  _ at all”,  _ Loki taunted teasingly, his smile growing at the playful indignation in Amelia’s eyes, “Relax, we’ll go slow.”

_ ‘Give me love like her, cause lately I’ve been waking up alone.’ _

The vocals of the song joined the mellifluous instrumentals and Loki swayed purposefully, taking unhurried steps with the expectation that Amelia would copy him - and she did, haphazardly; the movements were slower than when he had learnt to dance in his youth, but the leisurely tempo of the music was apposite enough.

_ ‘Paint splattered teardrops on my shirt, told you I’d let them go.’ _

“Eyes up”, Loki told her, and Amelia’s gaze lifted from the floor, a hint of incredulity in her eyes as she struggled to predict the motions of the dance.

“I’m going to trip over”, she squeaked, “I don’t know the steps.”

“You won’t fall”, Loki assured her, “I don’t expect you to be brilliant at this.”

“Because I’m drunk?”

“Because you have no rhythm.” He corrected, a touch of mirth in his impish tone.

“You’re so mean”, Amelia murmured, though it was a half-hearted scolding; she was far too busy trying to concentrate on not stumbling over her own feet.

_ ‘Give a little time to me, or burn this out. We’ll play hide and seek to turn this around.’ _

Despite his jest over Amelia’s discoordination, he had to give her credit; the woman was quick to learn the correct manoeuvres, and rightly anticipated when Loki was about to rotate so that she could act accordingly. 

_ ‘All I want is the taste that your lips allow. My my, my my, give me love.’ _

Amelia’s smile grew bright, and she gave a soft yelp when Loki spun her around, hurriedly returning her arm to rest above his, with her hand on his shoulder to continue the congruous dance.

“Amelia”, Loki spoke softly,  _ “Eyes up.” _

Her gaze had once again fallen to ensure she did not step on his toes and she looked apologetic when she peered back up at him, “Sorry! I feel like I’m gonna bring us both tumbling to the floor”, she laughed, biting her lower lip sheepishly.

There was zero chance of that happening. She couldn’t topple him over with just a misstep; Loki’s strength and elegance made sure of that, but Amelia clearly needed something to bolster her confidence.

“Have a little faith in yourself”, he encouraged, “You’re actually…  _ alright  _ at this.”

Amelia’s cheeks reddened at the compliment, her face beaming with swelling pride, before she let out a breathy laugh, “You were literally just saying I had no rhythm, James!”

Loki laughed, the brief moment of merriment causing him to step forward a little more forcefully than intended, resulting in their chests bumping together, which threw Amelia off balance. She staggered with a yelp, but Loki caught her and reflexively pulled her closer till they were pressed together.

“That was your fault!” Amelia giggled almost deliriously, apparently finding great entertainment from Loki’s lapse in grace.

“I can only apologise”, Loki spoke, fighting down a smile in response to the woman’s infectious laughter.

_ ‘You know I’ll fight my corner, and that tonight I’ll call ya after my blood is drowning in alcohol. No, I just wanna hold ya.’  _ The music continued to play as their unprofessional waltzing ceased; the two of them continued to swing gently to the song as Amelia’s arms latched together around Loki’s shoulders while his hands rested upon her waist.

She was warm against him, her head resting on his shoulder, and he could feel the tickle of her breath dancing across the side of his neck. The magnificent smell of vanilla rose from her hair and perforated his senses, and he dipped his head gingerly, his nose brushing against her head to seek more of the dazzling scent.

Amelia pulled back slightly at the contact, looking up with chaste curiosity to meet his ardent gaze, and Loki took in the minute widening of her brown eyes - her eyes that, in the right light, resembled the hue of sunlight shining through a bottle of whiskey - speckled with gold and stimulating silent wonderment.

They were close. Intimately so. 

It took Loki a moment to realise that the steady beating he heard was not the change of song in the background but in fact the sound of blood rushing past his ears, his heart thumping heavily in his chest.

There was an  _ impulse  _ behind it. An almost painful, sharp feeling encroaching through his ribcage, urging him to close the gap between them, to dip his head and  _ kiss her. _

Amelia’s eyes flickered fleetingly down to his mouth, her own mouth parting scrupulously as an unspoken question sparked in her gaze, and Loki’s tongue darted out instinctively to wet his suddenly very dry lips.

Her fingers stroked the back of his neck, sliding up to entwine in his hair, tender and affectionate; Loki’s breath stalled in his chest the moment he realised they were merely inches apart.

He pushed her away gently, his eyes wide as though he had been spooked.

“I have to go.” He turned away, Amelia’s soft noise of disappointed confusion audible to him even above the music, and grabbed the still-unfinished bottle of Asgardian wine as an afterthought before making his way steadfastly to the exit of the apartment. He ignored Amelia’s quiet protest, too agitated by his own actions to entirely comprehend the hurt expression on her face as he shut the door behind him, taking off down the hallway.

In the elevator, he pressed his heated forehead against the cool metal wall, shutting his eyes tightly as he tried to make sense of what had just happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so evil, I know. I'm sorry (but actually I'm not sorry).
> 
> I was serious about the slow-burn. Well, I'm gonna say this... the payoff is sooner than you think, okay? :') 
> 
> And in the next chapter, some STUFF happens, so brace yourselves. I know that's vague as heck but I don't want to spoil anything. 
> 
> If anyones interested in listening, here's the songs referenced in this chapter:  
> Don't Lose My Number - Phil Collins  
> Give Me Love - Ed Sheeran
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter even though I'm a huge tease. I promise you'll be satisfied in... three chapters time ;)


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The apartment felt empty, but Loki knew better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick thing - you might've noticed that I changed the rating from Mature to Explicit and changed the tag from 'implied sexual content' to 'explicit sexual content'. This is because originally I was going to write a non-explicit sex scene for this fic BUT I changed my mind. It's gonna be explicit so y'all can look forward to that ;) It's not in this chapter but it's definitely coming soon, among other things ;) I'll stop being cryptic now.
> 
> WARNING FOR THIS CHAPTER: Serious angst, mentions of suicide - it is BRIEF but still THERE and I urge you to be careful if you are sensitive to this topic.
> 
> I wanted to do something nice... so I wrote a chapter that's double the usual length. I love everyone who reads this, seriously, you are all the best :)

 

It had seemed like a good idea in the moment to gulp down the leftover Asgardian wine, but by the time Loki arrived back at Avengers Tower, the extra tipple had made its way into his bloodstream and further clouded his already frustrated mind, causing his movements to become somewhat cloddish. 

He was almost relieved to find that Thor was still awake at the late hour, and wasted no time in making his vexation known.

“Thor. Training room. Now”, Loki barked with no room for argument as he approached the sturdy man in the corridor; the golden-haired god took one look at his brother and his eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“Loki, have you been drinking?”

Loki gave an infuriated scoff, cursing Thor’s newfound sharpness. The God of Thunder never used to have such a keen sense of knowing, but the years had clearly gifted the man with distinguishing perception and logic. Either that, or Loki was far too transparent in his current state.

_ “You _ can hardly talk, brother”, Loki snarled, “You use any and all occasions to drink whatever you can get your hands on.” His fists clenched at his sides and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other repeatedly, restlessly, “Besides, I had  _ one bottle.  _ I am far from drunk.”

“Are you quite sure, brother?” Thor enquired, his eye darting over the man’s slender form, a tinge of humour to his curious tone. Loki swallowed thickly in response to Thor’s tenuous goading; far too nettled to think up a witty retort to sling back in his brother’s direction.

_ “Enough.”  _ Loki snapped, taking a more emphatic approach, “You will join me in the training room immediately. I wish to fight you.”

Thor regarded him with one of his infernal smiles, crossing his arms over his chest, with a slight calculating look to his scouring stare over Loki’s face. Loki hated it, the way Thor gave him a knowing look, the glint in his blue gaze that made it clear he knew Loki was fundamentally aggravated over something - that he clearly didn’t just  _ want  _ to fight, and was instead searching for a way to vent his exasperation.

“Tomorrow, brother, when you are sober.” Thor told him, before adding amusedly under his breath, “Perhaps that bottle of wine I gave you was  _ extra  _ strong?”

Loki felt his teeth involuntarily grit together, a throaty growl escaping him not only at his brother’s audacity, but also over the fact that Thor’s playful taunts were succeeding in angering him. He shut his eyes, steeling himself, and took a breath, exhaling an audibly deep sigh to let Thor know how displeased he was.

“Fine”, Loki relented with clear reluctance, “Tomorrow.” He was beyond irate, but realised with pestering indignation that while he wasn’t drunk, he wasn’t exactly clear-headed either. He had consumed enough Asgardian wine to place a damper on his reflexes, and he knew that if he were to challenge Thor to a skirmish, he would very quickly embarrass himself - and that would  _ not  _ be beneficial to his still lingering discontent.

* * *

“So, what happened last night that put you in such a shrewish mood, brother?” 

Loki had spent a good portion of the early morning stewing in his thoughts, and once again it had not been easy for him to fall into a restful sleep. Amelia plagued his waking mind; the mortal woman had drawn him into some strange obsession that left him unable to push her from his musings. To no avail, he had tried to find any reasonable explanation for why his brain had urged him to kiss her. 

He thought he had purged those lustful notions from his mind, steadfast in his resolution not to take advantage of Amelia in such a salacious way, only for his desire to have reared back up the moment he was pressed against her. He was appalled at the way his body had reacted to her proximity;  _ honestly,  _ had he no control over himself? 

And yet, what baffled him the most was that the situation had hardly been lewd. They’d been dancing, that was all - there was nothing titillating about it. So why the desire to tilt her chin up and capture her lips?

Loki felt the displacement of the air across his face, giving him a split second to evade one of Thor’s vicious punches; his focus snapped back into place and he put some distance between himself and his brother with a few graceful steps back, dismayed to find that his fixation for Amelia had once again proven far too distracting.

Thor did not strike again immediately, granting Loki a few precious moments to gather his bearings, and Loki rolled his eyes at his brother’s hesitance, realising he was still awaiting a response to the question he’d asked.

“Why must you always insist on poking your nose into my personal affairs?” Loki droned, drawing magic from within himself to conjure his razor-sharp daggers.

“Believe it or not, brother, I do care about you”, Thor informed, leaning cautiously into a more defensive position.

“So you’ve told me. Time and time again”, the corners of Loki’s lips curled upwards into a subtle smirk, and he crouched slightly, as if ready to pounce at any moment, and prolonged his held stance, watching the anticipation arise in Thor’s gaze.

“It’s about Amelia, is it not?” 

Loki jerked forward with perfect finesse and practised manoeuvres, swiping the blades with precision and fluid movements, not with the intent to kill but  _ perhaps  _ with the intent to maim. Thor eluded the onslaught with equal dexterity, though Loki was overjoyed to leave at least a few tender abrasions and lacerations across his brother’s flesh.

The God of Thunder allowed Loki to exhaust his aggressive foray, letting the anger boil down to a simmer until the assault ceased altogether, and the two brothers faced each other, twitchy with laboured breaths.

Thor breathed a sigh, letting out a faint laugh as he lowered his arms, taking a more casual posture, and rubbed his fingers reservedly against the sore cut on the back of his hand that had appeared courtesy of the God of Mischief; his attitude signalled their fight had come to an end, but Loki growled low in his throat, clenching the daggers in his hands tightly.

“I’m not done with you yet, Thor”, Loki hissed.

“We’re done, Loki”, Thor responded, wiping the sweat from his forehead, “You came here to work out your frustration but if you won’t talk to me, then what is the point?”

Loki’s eyes narrowed and he rolled the daggers uncomfortably in his grip, “What are you  _ talking  _ about?”

Thor smiled knowingly, “Exchanging blows can only burn off so much agitation. Unless you talk about what’s bothering you, it is only going to bottle up inside, and you know how bad that is for you.” His meaningful words addressed Loki directly, like it wasn’t just a turn of phrase;  _ ‘you know’,  _ because Loki was so used to containing his anger, masking his emotions, and taking it all out at once when it became too much.

“Do not patronise me, brother. I am not a child”, Loki seethed, spitting the last word as though it was venom in his mouth, and Thor’s expression hardened.

“It is not my intent to be condescending. It’s clear something is bothering you. I wish only to help”, Thor’s face was imploring, as if trying to communicate his honourable purpose.

Loki pursed his lips, slowly lowering his daggers while remaining vigilant in his manner, his eyes searching Thor’s face for any signs of derision or mockery. He found none.

Briefly, Loki entertained the thought of confiding in his brother. Thor had experience with  _ feelings _ for  _ Midgardian women,  _ as his romantic endeavours with Jane Foster revealed, but the situation was different; Jane and Thor were no longer on amorous terms, so could his brother really offer any sincere enlightenment on Loki’s dilemma?

Loki wondered whether Thor had felt bewildered when he’d realised his initial attraction to the mortal woman - the remarkable notion that he, an almighty god, had become enticed by a human - and whether it had troubled him for a time, in the same way Loki was troubled now.

But Loki wouldn’t allow his pride to sink so low as to ask his fool of a brother for advice on  _ feelings;  _ he couldn’t help but believe there would come a time where Thor would use his instance of vulnerability against him and tease him relentlessly in the way Thor was prone to do. The expression greeting him from his brother’s face may have been genuine in that moment, but the authenticity of it would not last, and Loki would not bare his feelings to the golden-haired god knowing it could eventually blow back in his face.

Thor’s eyes had widened ever so slightly at Loki’s extended silence and contemplation, as though he hadn’t expected the God of Mischief to actually consider revealing what was bothering him, and it only made Loki all the more irked.

The daggers in Loki’s hands dematerialised and he straightened up at once, turning swiftly to exit the training room. “We’re done, then.”

He heard Thor release a despondent sigh as he left. Not that it was a problem for Loki, he wasn’t responsible for abating his brother’s disappointment, just like Thor was not responsible for alleviating Loki of his endless frustrations; he did not need the God of Thunder to hold his hand through his inexplicable infatuation toward Amelia. He could figure it out for himself.

When he was scheduled to return to Amelia’s apartment the following day, he made up an excuse, using his phone to send her a dismissive message,  _ ‘I won’t be coming over today’  _ so that he could allow himself more time to dwell on his accursed feelings to try and make sense of them. 

He had not received a response.

Another two days passed and Loki had practically driven himself mad with all the time he had spent alone with his thoughts. Instead of acting like a coward and further avoiding the issue at hand, Loki decided to travel back to Amelia’s apartment, as arranged, two days later, on Friday evening.

She did not answer the door when he knocked the first time, so he tried again.

_ Knock, knock, knock. _

Again, there was no response. Loki frowned, wondering briefly whether he’d come on the wrong day; but  _ no,  _ it was Friday. He always came on a Friday.

He knocked for a third time, louder.

Still nothing.

This had never happened before. She always answered the door when he knocked. The sudden break of typicality was somewhat jarring, and immediately he searched his mind for any justification that would explain why she had not yet swung the door open and greeted him as she usually did.

It did not seem plausible that she could have forgotten; she was always so ecstatic to see him that it appeared ridiculous to assume she had overlooked his visitation, but then, if she  _ had  _ forgotten, why was she not now opening her door with a slew of apologies?

The door behind him creaked ajar, and Loki turned his head to find Amelia’s neighbour, Ethan, regarding him with a curious, raised eyebrow.

“You lookin’ for Amelia? I don’t think she’s home. I knocked earlier and she didn’t answer”, he brushed his hand through his unruly mop of hair and scratched the bridge of his pointy nose offhandedly, “Like, way earlier. This morning. She’s been gone all day or somethin’.”

Loki said nothing, merely held unwavering eye contact with the indecorous man until the mortal began to squirm under the scrutiny; the god had already decided that he did not hold a sliver of respect for Amelia’s sleazy neighbour. From what Loki had seen and heard, the man spent far too much time trying to coax Amelia into getting a coffee with him, and Amelia had long since made her distaste for Ethan known.

Ethan opened his mouth to say something else, but his words caught in his throat and he gave a dismissive shrug before quickly shutting the door to his apartment; Loki rolled his eyes over the man’s cowardly show.

He’d said Amelia wasn’t home - but that didn’t seem right. Sure, Amelia had voiced her desire to get out of the apartment more, however, Loki could practically  _ feel  _ a presence from within, and upon pressing his ear to the door, he could undeniably hear the sound of faint voices.

Loki’s stomach gave an involuntary lurch at the prospect that somebody had found their way into the apartment and hurt her, but the rational side of his mind told him that was unlikely - if there had been some sort of skirmish at any point, Amelia would have yelled out, and  _ somebody  _ on the floor would have heard her,  _ right? _

But still, something prodded at his mind, telling him that he had reason to be concerned; he needed to know Amelia was safe.

There was no need to cause a scene by kicking the door down -  _ that was more Thor’s style  _ \- Loki simply used his magic to reach into the keyhole, a green tendril nudging experimentally against the pin tumblers until the lock sprung open with a telling click. He slipped noiselessly into the room, shutting the door as quietly as he could behind him, before turning his attention down the short corridor and towards the living room. Not an ounce of moonlight shone through the windows given the curtains were pulled shut and everything about the drab, stagnant atmosphere brought a twinge of dread to Loki’s chest as he stepped forward.

Despite the darkness, there was a faint, pale glow filling the room, which Loki quickly found to be emanating from the television, as were the mysterious voices he had heard through the door.

The apartment felt empty, but Loki knew better.

His eyes fell to the couch across from the TV and he stepped closer, walking around it to find Amelia splayed messily across it, slightly curled in on herself with her face pressed against the cushion by the armrest. At first glance, she looked to be sleeping soundly, but upon closer inspection, Loki could clearly see her distressed expression - her eyebrows tense and drawn together, her lips curled downwards in a deep frown, and the wet redness of her cheeks all indicated that she was in a far from restful slumber.

And if that wasn’t enough, the vast array of alcohol bottles spread across the coffee table holding various volumes of liquid made it clear that she had drunken herself into oblivion.

What had happened?

This was… so unlike Amelia. She obviously had an affinity for alcohol, but Loki hadn’t seen her in such an enervated state since the day they first met, and even then she hadn’t been utterly intoxicated. The only thing going through Loki’s head was  _ why?  _ Something must have triggered her awful condition.

Surely this wasn’t because he had left her so suddenly following his profusion of complicated feelings on Monday night, or the fact that he had excused himself from coming over on Wednesday evening - something else must have prompted her to drink till she was indisposed.

The faint voices from the television suddenly became sharp to his ears as he focused on them, realising for the first time that one of the voices belonged to Amelia herself. He looked to the screen, and deduced that he was watching an old recording of the woman and - her brother, it seemed. 

Loki recognised the man from the framed picture he had seen before; Aaron Avery -  _ neatly styled, brown hair, rimless specs, wide smile _ \- was  _ alive _ in this recording, and Amelia looked so young and happy. She was far different than the woman lying unconscious on the sofa beside him.

_ ‘I spy, with my little eye, something beginning with… B.’ _

The two of them were walking through a forest of green, trudging through damp grass, bundled in warm clothes and playing some silly Midgardian game, it seemed.

_ ‘B? Huh.’  _ Aaron looked around himself, looking for something that began with the letter Amelia had chosen, and Amelia herself grinned knowingly, holding the camera at arms-length so that both of their faces were visible on the screen.

_ ‘Bark.’ _

_ ‘Bark?’ _

_ ‘Yeah, like tree bark.’ _

_ ‘Bark is not the answer’,  _ a tumble of giggles fell from on-screen Amelia’s mouth, and Aaron shrugged, looking more than confused.

_ ‘I don’t see many things beginning with B, Ammy.’  _ Aaron responded, giving a shrug and a theatrical huff, his nickname for his younger sister rolling smoothly off his tongue.

_ ‘You’re so bad at this game.’ _

_ ‘I never claimed to be the master at it. Go on, then. What’s the answer?’ _

_ ‘You’re giving up after one guess?’ _

Loki watched Aaron throw his hands up in the air in defeat, and Amelia rolled her eyes, a smile pulling at her face.

_ ‘The answer is berries, dummy.’  _ As if to prove herself, the camera fell and revealed a bush littered with small, red berries, and Aaron sighed dramatically, a look of conceding defeat on his face as he appointed Amelia the winner.

Loki breathed a somewhat amused huff; the sibling dynamic between Amelia and Aaron seemed as though it had been far more compassionate in comparison to Loki’s own relationship with his brother. Not to say that Loki didn’t care about Thor -  _ as if he would ever admit that out loud  _ \- but they had definitely shown their  _ brotherly love  _ in a far more…  _ playfully violent _ way.

Turning his attention away from the television screen, Loki lowered his gaze to Amelia, who had continued to lay motionless and unstirring throughout the noise of the recording. He fluctuated on his choices; the thought of turning to leave the apartment as if he had never discovered her flickered briefly in his mind, but he couldn’t. He could not leave her like this.

He walked around the couch and sat beside her, mindful of her legs, and shook her gently, “Amelia, wake up.”

When she didn’t awaken immediately, Loki repeated her name more loudly and shook her a little harder; her expression tightened and she made a noise of discomfort which quickly trailed into a groan. Groggily, she came to, blinking her eyes hard to dispel the cloud of sleep that had befallen her mind, and she lifted her head from the cushion disorientedly, revealing a damp patch where her tears had met the velvety material.

“Mm, ugh… James?” Her voice was coarse and she appeared confused, but as she looked up into his concerned eyes, the emotion quickly washed out of her face and made way for shame. She pulled herself up at once into a sitting position, curling up to hug her knees as she brushed her hand across her face, effectively hiding it from Loki. “Shit, I’m sorry- I… I fucked up.”

Loki kept his expression neutral so as not to betray his apprehension over Amelia’s unrefined state, and the woman nibbled on her lower lip, clearly put off by his silence.

“I didn’t mean to… drink so… much”, her words were slurred and the vacant, oddly timed pauses in her speech were evident of exactly how drunk she was.  _ Exceedingly. _ More so than the last time Loki had been there, and after the dance they had shared, Loki couldn’t have predicted that Amelia would be such a miserable inebriate.

“What happened?” Loki spoke at last, and Amelia sniffed, rubbing her sore cheeks free of the dried tear remnants.

 

“Nothing… happened. Not really- I just… ugh… not had a good day…” Her words were barely coherent as she pinched the bridge of nose, shutting her eyes tightly - either in pain or a lot of discomfort; after a moment she blinked her dulled eyes open and reached for the glass on the table that still contained alcohol. Before she could close her fingers around it, Loki swiped it up and moved it out of her reach.

“You’ve had enough, Amelia.” 

A soft groan left the woman’s mouth, followed by a sigh, and she grumbled, “You don’t know shit…”

Loki bristled fleetingly over her ill-mannered response; he didn’t recall that she had ever spoken to him in such a rude way before, and the bite behind her words - weak though it was - still surprised him. But, of course, he had to remind himself that she was hammered out of her wits, and clearly troubled by something in addition.

Amelia ran a hand across her face again before lowering her gaze, blinking tiredly at the floor; the steady stench of alcohol arose from her and her overall rumpled look left her rather unsightly - but, despite that, Loki felt no revulsion like he might’ve felt with  _ anybody _ else. He was overcome with something akin to pity.

The situation, however, made him utterly uncomfortable. Loki was not well versed in the art of comforting those in distress, especially not mortals, and it was far from his responsibility to ensure that Amelia was comforted and happy.

But he had to try. He  _ wanted  _ to try.

Loki felt his jaw clench as he recalled his brother’s attempt to pacify his frustrations a few days prior; breathing a sigh, he reluctantly murmured the words, “Do you want to  _ talk  _ about it?”

Amelia said nothing for a long while, her eyes drilling into the floor while she presumably thought over the merits of revealing her problems to Loki, until at least she looked up, her eyes visibly sore from irritation and the skin around them puffy and red, and met his gaze.

She inched a little closer to him on the couch before once again taking a curled up position, hugging her knees to her chest, and spoke quietly, “Did I... do something wrong… the other day?”

Loki frowned, knowing immediately what she was referring to - his sudden departure following their shared dance. “No. You did nothing wrong”, he assured her bluntly, and Amelia sniffed, her head dipping with uncertainty.

“I just thought… maybe I did something to… ah, make you uncomfortable, or-”

“You did nothing wrong”, Loki repeated with conviction, “I had my reasons for leaving so suddenly, it had nothing to do with you.” Okay, so that wasn’t entirely true, but it certainly wasn’t any fault of Amelia’s; it was Loki’s own thoughts that had gotten the better of him and Amelia had no control over that. 

His easy lie seemed to attenuate some of Amelia’s stress, for she perceivably relaxed and trusted his response, “I… I see. That’s… good to know.”

She inhaled and exhaled deeply, the quiver in her breath audible from the time she had spent crying, “Cause, I…  _ thought  _ I had done something… wrong… and I- I haven’t been able to shake the thought since. Then you texted on Wednesday saying you couldn’t come, so I figured… that I was right in my assumption-”

Loki gave a sigh, shaking his head, “I was feeling unwell that day”, he interjected with another lie; the need to mollify Amelia’s anxious thoughts was suddenly far too important to him.

Amelia gave a quiet, self-deprecating laugh, “You know how quick I am to make stupid assumptions”, she paused, swallowing the thick lump in her throat before she continued, “I haven’t been sleeping well this week. A couple hours a night, probably. When I worry… I lose sleep. When I lose sleep, I worry. It’s an endless cycle of anxiety for me… I’ve had it for  _ years.” _

Loki found himself fiddling with his tie, pulling it and rolling the material between the pads of his fingers; he couldn’t help but feel a little bit  _ useless _ in that moment, with no idea what to say or do to make Amelia feel better. All he could do was sit there and listen to her speak.

“I stared at my ceiling all night last night, just thinking about how much of a worthless mess I am”, the words streamed off her tongue with ease, and Loki detested the way she spoke so deplorably of herself. She wasn’t…  _ worthless.  _ She wasn’t. He’d grown so ridiculously fond of her, and he could barely explain  _ why, _ but he didn’t waste his time on just anyone. Amelia’s smile brightened the room, her kindness towards him resonated throughout his soul and he admired the subtle moments she would come out with intelligent statements.

“You are not worthless”, he breathed, but offered no more than that. He struggled to find words that would mitigate her self-loathing; it was so much harder to articulate his thoughts of her out loud.

Amelia gave him a weak smile as her eyes grew wet, shrugging her shoulders with an almost imperceptible shake of her head, “I’m still a mess though”, a mirthless laugh breezed past her lips, “...I’m sorry.”

Loki’s gaze narrowed in bewilderment, “Sorry for what?”

“For not telling you.”

He continued to regard her with confusion, not entirely sure what she was referring to; she looked down sorrowfully, “Aren’t you disappointed that I’m…” she trailed off momentarily, motioning her whole body with a wave of her hands, “...a dreary excuse for a human being?”

Loki chewed the inside of his cheek for a few moments; he was not  _ disappointed,  _ he certainly didn’t think Amelia was  _ dreary _ and he couldn’t understand why she was so quick to despise herself. Finally, he found the words he hoped would bring her at least a hint of tranquility.

“Don’t be absurd, darling. You’re the dearest human I’ve ever met.” It was not a lie; she was the only human he enjoyed the company of - the only human whose teasing he found endearing as opposed to pesky and bothersome like Stark’s.

Amelia laughed, and Loki was relieved to detect genuine amusement as opposed to humourless disbelief in her slightly hoarse chortling.

_ “Absurd”,  _ she repeated, “that word, again.” To Loki’s surprise, she dipped down and leant against him, curling up to his side to place her head on his shoulder, and he moved his arm to rest against the back of the sofa, eyes pointedly ahead. It took effort for him not to grow tense at the contact, still not used to proximity, but he managed, swallowing tightly as Amelia’s giggles continued for what seemed like an abnormally long time, until she was emitting only sniffles and sharp breaths.

When he looked down at her again, he found her cheeks were wet with newly shed tears, and her giggles had merged into restrained sobs; he reached out reflexively to brush her tears away.

“I was going to kill myself.”

Loki stiffened, his hand frozen midway to her face, and despite the background noise of the television, there was a dreadful silence that seemed louder than the faint voices of Amelia’s recordings.

_ “What?”  _ he whispered, the stutter of his heart uncomfortable in his chest as he absorbed this new information.

“Not today”, she rectified, “I meant… the day we met. I was going to kill myself.”

Loki did not know what to say; Amelia’s words reverberated through his mind like a gunshot and his jaw suddenly ached from the way his teeth grit together. He thought back to that day, Amelia’s shabby clothes, her hunched posture, the way her hair had poked out from beneath her hoodie, untamed and uncared for, the creases of her face that suggested she hadn’t smiled in a long time, and her eyes - her beautiful eyes so dulled and dented with sadness.

The first words she’d spoken to him,  _ ‘Are you here to say goodbye to someone  _ **_too_ ** _?’ _ had sounded so out of place, and at the time he hadn’t been able to decipher why. The pieces of that puzzle had been spread out before him, he just hadn’t connected the dots; her words had implied she’d been there to say goodbye to someone, but he’d seen the dates on her brother’s grave. He’d been dead for five years, so  _ why had Amelia come to say goodbye to him that day? _

Because she had not intended to return again.

It seemed embarrassingly  _ obvious  _ to Loki now that he thought about it, now that he actually took the time to dissect that particular meeting and find the clear discrepancy he had previously overlooked.

She’d been walking around at three o’clock in the morning because she’d given up - what did it matter if she had frozen to death in the frigid cold air, or if some revolting wretch had attacked her and left her for dead on the hard pavement? She had been in a state of mind in which she just hadn’t cared anymore.

Loki’s suspended hand fell slowly back to his side; his teeth grinding involuntarily, and he parted his lips to ask a question he supposed he already knew the answer to, “What changed your mind?”

Amelia sniffled, releasing a quaking sigh, and Loki could feel the moisture of her tears soaking through his suit shirt.

“You did.”

Loki said nothing. Nervous laughter bubbled from Amelia’s throat, involuntary tittering that interrupted her rapid breaths before another sob escaped her mouth.

“You said I was… pathetic and pitiful, and I- I  _ heard  _ you. Who knew that all I needed was the perspective of a stranger? I went home after that, went to bed and had the best sleep I’d had in months - my brother once told me that  _ nothing gets solved at three o’clock in the morning, you just have to make it to sunrise and everything will seem better when you wake,  _ and thanks to you, it did. If it wasn’t for you, I’d… I’d be dead.” The words tumbled out like an avalanche, impaired by her slurring and sobbing, but still clear enough to Loki’s ears.

“You saved my life that night, and- and I felt like I  _ owed  _ you. When I- I saw you again, three weeks later, I knew I couldn’t let you walk away- I had to… talk to you… oh God, I sound so fucking creepy… I’m sorry. Ignore me. I’m drunk”, she weeped into his shoulder, and despite her utterance, she continued to spew largely nonsensical words against Loki’s shirt.

Loki was still a little stunned by her suicidal admission and that he, whether intended or not, had convinced her to survive with just a few harsh comments muttered in the icy cold of a dark cemetery. He wondered why his uncaring remarks had brought her back from the brink of hopelessness, especially when his aim on that night had been to mock her. Was she genuinely so lonely that the attention of a terse stranger had restored an ounce of optimism within her?

“Did you truly have nobody else?” He enquired gently; the desire to unravel the loose ends of this new revelation overpowered the desire to let Amelia cry herself to sleep again.

Amelia gave a sharp exhale that could’ve been mistaken for a sarcastic laugh, followed by a gasp of air as her chest trembled uncontrollably in response to her tearful, frantic breaths.

“I’ve been alone for a long time”, she whispered in a brief window of clarity, her voice breaking ever so slightly, before she added another joyless laugh, “I always wonder why nobody likes me… and then I remember that  _ I  _ don’t even like me…” she trailed off, her cloudy eyes drooping with impending exhaustion, “Maybe that’s why I don’t have any friends.”

Loki looked down at her, his finger curling below her chin to lift her watery gaze up; she looked beyond terrible, her face lacking colour and her eyes lacking spirit.

“Am I not your friend?” He had expected to bring a smile to her lips, but instead she crumbled further, plastering her hands over her face as her body wracked with another sob, and he almost panicked at her persistently deteriorating state.

“What about-” Loki’s eyes flickered to the dresser in which a few of Amelia’s framed pictures sat, of her mother and her brother, but nothing of her father, “What about your father?”

Amelia’s demeanour changed so suddenly that Loki was surprised she didn’t sustain whiplash; the air around them seemed to chill as she went from a crippling, twitching mess to stock still, lowering her hands to reveal a look of intense hatred in her eyes, her frantic breaths having ceased momentarily as she held her breath, seemingly enraged.

While the potency of Amelia’s abrupt resentment was alarming, Loki showed no outward reaction, and watched her rhythmically clench and unclench her fists in a vain effort to curb her wrath.

“I don’t have a father”, she finally hissed, her frenzied breaths returning as she spoke, except this time they sounded like distraught, angry coughs, as opposed to hopeless weeping, “He always hated me - loved my brother, but  _ hated  _ me. I was- was the  _ accident,  _ never meant to be born, I- I wish I could tell you he was  _ dead.” _

She’d pulled away from Loki, perhaps trying to put some distance between them both for his sake, and she reached for the cushion that was still a little damp from earlier, and shoved her face into it. She almost looked as though she was trying to smother herself, but Loki knew better - she was trying to refrain from hyperventilating.

Loki stood, and Amelia felt the pressure rise from the couch, to which she quickly removed her face from the pillow and looked up in shock, “Please- don’t leave-”

“I’m not”, Loki told her, crossing the room towards the kitchen, “I’m getting you a glass of water.”

Amelia released what Loki assumed was a noise of gratitude, and when he returned with her drink in hand, he heard the woman enumerating a string of words that took him a moment to comprehend.

_ “Primrose, lotus, tulips, buttercups, daisies-” _ She was reciting floral species; perhaps as another method to try and control her respiration.

“Amelia”, he interrupted, holding the glass out for her to take, and she did so with shaky hands, murmuring what sounded like a slurred  _ ‘thank you’. _

He sat beside her again, breathing a sigh; the moist patch of material against his shoulder felt awfully uncomfortable as it began to cool, but he didn’t dare voice his aversion or make a move to adjust his shirt lest Amelia burst into another round of sobs from guilt.

Amelia gulped down the water presented to her as though it were some elixir of happiness; it was possible she hadn’t even drunken any water that day, so it may have even  _ felt  _ like an elixir of happiness as the cool liquid quenched her thirst.

“Better?” Loki asked as she finished the last few drops in the glass, and Amelia nodded her head, her hysterical breaths having ceased for the most part; she continued to wheeze shakily, her body still shaking with each drawn puff, but not to the same extreme it had previously.

“Thank you…” she whispered again, breathlessly, and laid the empty glass down on the coffee table to join the array of hopefully forgotten alcohol.

Loki was not surprised this time when she shuffled back against him, resting her head once again at his shoulder, simply allowing herself to slump instead of actively wetting his shirt; they sat for a few minutes in silence, though Loki could only assume that Amelia’s thoughts were whirring frantically in her head, greeting her with anything but peacefulness. Loki’s were no better, he could hardly stop thinking about how the last hour might completely change his friendship with Amelia, and whether the woman would tiptoe around this encounter as if it never happened.

“I have…  _ ruined _ your shirt.” Amelia garbled, and when Loki lowered his gaze to her, he found an apologetic, weak smile on her face.

“Yes.” Loki confirmed, “You have. Thanks for that.” He kept his tone light, because in reality, it was hardly a problem save for a little contemporary discomfort. As soon as he left the apartment, he could easily dispel the clammy patch of material without much issue.

A breathy chuckle left her mouth and it appeared she had finally regained control of her wheezing; her chest now rising and falling at a regular, rhythmic pace.

“James…” Amelia spoke, an odd undertone of playful boldness becoming audible in her voice, “Can I kiss you?”

_ “No.”  _ Loki’s low voice was strained as he spoke, his body growing tense as his heart pulsed fiercely in the same breath; it was strange, he felt, how despite everything that had happened since he arrived, his desire for the woman had not seemed to diminish even in the slightest. She looked like a wreck, and yet, he  _ did  _ still want to kiss her, but he couldn’t - she was drunk and vulnerable and didn’t know what she was asking. To kiss her now and take what he wanted would make him lower than dirt.

“Oh.”

The dispiriting cadence of resignation in her voice was enough to make even Loki feel a tad rueful.

“Ask me again when you’re sober.” He told her, a jesting lilt in his tone that Amelia clung to, and a smile bloomed on her face, stronger than before.

“Okay.”

With that, she fell asleep on him; her fears and worries temporarily placated to allow the veil of exhaustion to finally overcome her, and Loki almost sighed with relief when her expression evened out into something akin to serenity. Once he was sure she was locked in a deep enough slumber, he rose from the couch and carried her towards her bedroom; the mental weariness in his mind parted to invite in the ever-present jab of mischief as his eyes flickered briefly to the locked door at the end of the hallway.

There was nobody to stop him now; it was time to assuage his curiosity and find out what Amelia was hiding in that mysterious room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHEW. Still teasing the slow burn with that kiss hanging in the air, huh? I PROMISE THE PAYOFF WILL COME SOON! I PROMISE!!!!! ;)
> 
> If you noticed any spelling/grammar errors then please let me know. I got up early to have this chapter out sooner rather than later so I might still be a little sleepy and may have missed things. 
> 
> Since I worked so hard... PLEASE LEAVE ME A COMMENT! I WOULD SUPER APPRECIATE IT! It's always lovely to see feedback when you've worked so hard on something so please be nice and let me know if you enjoyed this chapter/what you enjoyed about this chapter!


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I told you not to come in here.” She sounded disconnected, as though she was on another plane of reality - and she looked it too, like she was halfway in a dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Announcer voice* What's behind door number threeeeeee!?

 

Blue bed sheets, purple carpet, and lime green walls greeted Loki as he entered Amelia’s room; the inexplicably garish colours, rich in vividity, seemed almost offensive in how loud they were - but naturally, it was an undeniably perfect match to Amelia’s usually rambunctious personality.

She was far from boisterous now, as she slumped, asleep in his arms while he carried her to bed; he stepped quietly, wishing to avoid any sounds or sudden movements that might disturb her slumber. Loki placed her down on the soft mattress, cushioning her cheek against one of the many fluffy pillows decorating the head of her bed, and made sure she was propped comfortably on her side before pulling the duvet up to her shoulders.

He grew still when she shifted, watching the muscles in her face twitch briefly before slackening again; perhaps she wasn’t as deeply asleep as Loki first thought - but he was the master of slinking around unseen and unheard, and was confident he could move softly enough so as not to wake her.

Loki did not dither; his curiosity was eating away at him and he wanted to know why Amelia was so tight-lipped and discreet about one supposedly inconspicuous room in her home. He left the bedroom with one more fleeting glance towards the unconscious woman, before pulling the door to, leaving it slightly ajar lest the click into place was enough to rouse her.

Three strides of his long legs brought him before the mysterious door, and he once again eyed the grubby, unpolished doorknob. It was still locked. He could waste his time looking for the key, which was probably somewhere in Amelia’s bedroom, or he could just coax the door open - as he had done earlier that evening upon entering the apartment - with a flutter of magic. Even inanimate objects could fall victim to his persuasion, and the gentle clink of the lock unlatching told Loki he was free to enter.

Turning the handle, Loki pushed the door, opening it partway. The sound that greeted him was horribly loud - the deafening creak of the metal brackets grinding against the hinges made him halt suddenly. He looked to Amelia’s room, tense as he listened for any rustling sounds of her stirring below the bed covers, but found none, and continued to open the door slower than before, cringing when the brackets squealed persistently in protest.

The room was dark and barely a sliver of light peeked through the small gaps around the edges of the pulled curtains opposite; Loki spied the light switch beside him and flicked it up, bringing illumination to the dusky room.

Dust. A lot of it. Loki’s keen eyes caught sight of the tiny particles floating in the air, and the thick layer that appeared almost like a powder marred every surface of the room, accompanied by a pungent, musty smell permeating throughout. His nose wrinkled at the odour as his gaze darted around the room, searching for something of note.

He stepped in, the carpet coarse and dirty beneath his shoes, and surveyed the frayed, shabby furnishings of what clearly used to be a bedroom. To his right, there was a wardrobe and a couple of filing cabinets; ahead, a double bed, much like Amelia’s, and to the left, a desk with an open laptop, the battery long-since run dry.

It was the vision of a room forgotten, cast aside and locked away - out of sight, out of mind - and it didn’t take a genius to extrapolate who this room may have belonged to. There were remnants strewn about the place; Loki pulled at drawers of the filing cabinets, finding all but one to be locked, and the one he glimpsed inside of was full of, well,  _ files. _ Inside the wardrobe were a mix of smart and casual clothing, belonging clearly to a man, and a few pairs of sleek shoes, dull from disuse.

The sheets of the bed were creased, as if it had last been made in a hurry and without much thought, and near the foot of the bed lay a book, face down and opened. A brief glance at the spine revealed it to be a volume of Medical Science.

Above the wooden desk there was a shelf that housed a series of blue binders, which meant nothing to Loki, and a notebook beside the laptop, opened to a page with a pen resting across it; there was something scrawled down in blue ink but Loki couldn’t make heads or tails of the writing.

The walls were completely bare, a blank white that seemed to have greyed in the extended darkness, and the lack of ventilation couldn’t have been good for any part of the room. Loki dragged a finger across the desk and observed the collected dust, gauging that it had been years since the room had last been cleaned - or seen daylight, for that matter.

Loki breathed a sigh, displacing the dust floating before his face; he couldn’t help feel just a  _ tiny  _ bit disappointed to find nothing of too great significance behind the locked door. He didn’t know what he’d expected - something a little more exciting, something worth being so secretive as to lock away.

But this - the long-untouched bedroom of Aaron Avery - was not what he’d expected to find.

Why had Amelia locked it up? He understood that her grief was strong, but  _ this _ made little sense to him. Loki  _ knew  _ grief. He’d lost his mother, he’d suffered through the guilt and torment of feeling at least partly responsible for her passing, and being forbidden from attending her funeral - he’d never received closure on that trauma. He had not ruminated on it, but he had not forgotten - the memory of Frigga would always be there, popping up every so often when he least expected it. He did not lock those thoughts up and shove them to one side so they could return full force at a later time, Loki simply let them come and pass as they did, because regardless of what he said or did, nothing would bring her back, and so he wouldn’t torture himself over it.

But this - this  _ was _ torture. Amelia locked away her memory of Aaron and pushed it to one side, and  _ clung  _ to it, whether the intent to do so was there or not. 

The hairs on the back of Loki’s neck stood on end and he cursed inwardly, suddenly becoming aware of the presence behind him; he straightened up, turning his head to find Amelia stood just on the other side of the open door, her toes lined up with the entryway and her eyes downcast. Loki was impressed that she’d managed to tread so lightly as not to alert him until then, especially given that she was very tired and recovering from a night of excessive drinking.

“I told you not to come in here.” Her voice was so faint, still slurred by her intoxicated state, and she sounded disconnected, as though she was on another plane of reality - and she looked it too, like she was halfway in a dream.

Loki breathed a sigh. “You have to let him go.” He told her, wondering why he’d chosen to play therapist all of a sudden. His brain told him to leave and let her be, but something else told him to stay, and  _ help. _

_ “I told you not to come in here.”  _ She repeated, forcing the words out past the upset lump in her throat; her voice audibly caught with tears and Loki hoped she wouldn’t break down again - his suit was stained enough already. She sniffled, eyes squinting as her jaw clenched, and Loki realised her expression was closer to that of anger than of sadness.

He fought the need to roll his eyes, “Amelia. You have to let him go.” His words were firmer and louder, and he held out his hand, beckoning her in, encouraging her to step forward, but she stood her ground and stubbornly shook her head, her eyes darting almost feverishly over the contents of the room.

_ Fine,  _ Loki thought, he wouldn’t get through to her with gentle words and incitement, so he refused to sugarcoat it, “Your grief controls your life. How many times have you entered this room since he died?” She’d said so herself that the day they’d met, it had been his sharp, terse delivery that had convinced her to turn away from her suicidal plans, so it wasn’t as though she couldn’t handle it.

She said nothing, lips shut tight as she stared hard at the floor, unable to raise her head and meet his eyes. Finally, after a long, drawn out silence, she answered, “Just once.”

“Once?” Loki repeated; her voice was so sullen and meek that he had to be sure he had heard her correctly.

Amelia nodded weakly, “A week after his funeral… I haven’t come in since…”

So it had been five years since Amelia last stepped foot in the room; that would explain the critical build up of dust and the acute scent of mildew drifting through his nostrils. No wonder the woman had been teetering on the edge of instability for so long - this was practically self-destructive.

“That’s pathetic”, the words left Loki’s mouth easily, a tinge of indignance bubbling up at the fact she still seemed irate that he had entered the room in the first place. He had no problem speaking his mind when he knew he was right, “You’re pathetic.”

Again, Amelia’s gaze fell to the ground, her lips pursed as her hands clenched at her sides; she looked as though she was going to burst and scream out her repressed resentment from every emotion she had ever bottled up. The anger, the pain, the misery - it needed to  _ escape,  _ and Loki knew all too well how to release it. 

So he provoked her, cruel and merciless words streaming from his mouth, adding fuel to the proverbial fire; she  _ needed  _ to take out her rage or it would consume her, and since merely  _ talking _ had not abated it, Loki figured taunting her into brutality might suffice. It wasn’t like he couldn’t take a few hits from a mortal, especially one as docile and delicate as Amelia.

“You’re just  _ pitiful.  _ You can’t live like this, waiting for someone else to pull you out of this pit of woe; you have to get up and do something about it -  _ no one else will help you.  _ Your brother is dead,  _ so what?  _ You’re not the only person who ever lost somebody so  _ get over it. _ He’s gone and he’s not coming back, you can’t change that, so accept it and  _ stop being so miserable.” _

He watched her lip tremble, her shoulders flinching with every emphasised word he spat at her until she was virtually shaking, thrumming with bitterness.

“I thought you were stronger than this”, Loki finished, motioning her hunched frame with a dismissive wave of his hand, and he knew the words would pierce her like an arrow; he prepared for an onslaught of uncoordinated fury.

But Amelia was not like him. She did not thrive on her hatred and it did not bring her power.

Loki grew still when a broken whimper tore its way from her throat, and instead of attacking him with wild flails, she blinked once, slowly, and tears fell from her eyes.

It was different this time; the whole evening, she’d been crying into his shoulder and he’d averted his gaze uncomfortably, merely listening to her sniffles and sobs, but now he was forced to  _ see _ her, his eyes on her face, and a horrible feeling surged in the pit of his stomach at the sight he now endured.

Seeing Amelia like this was  _ not _ what he had wanted. It was unbearable to watch; she was not sobbing loudly as she had been before, but instead, she cried silently, biting her lip as the wet trails streamed over her cheeks. In some ways, it was worse like this, she seemed even more shattered than before, and this time it was because of Loki.

“Come here”, said Loki, and he beckoned Amelia forward, holding out his hand for her to take it. She stayed put, her downcast eyes flicking briefly to his palm and then back to the floor at her feet.

_ “Come here”,  _ he reiterated, his voice strained with an unknown emotion rising like bile in his throat. At last, Amelia raised her hand, hesitant and with deliberation, and she took an uncertain step into the room; Loki remained still, waiting for her to come to him.

With another step, her hand interlocked with his, and in one swift movement, Loki pulled her to him and enveloped her, wrapping his firm arms around her trembling body. 

Both participants of the embrace seemed surprised by this development; Loki held the woman flush against himself, one hand tight on her waist and the other hand wound its way into her hair, cupping the back of her neck affectionately. She weeped quietly into his shoulder for the second time that night, her own arms circling him as a distant afterthought and Loki could sense the gratitude in her gesture - not that it did anything to alleviate the guilt he felt from snarling at her so remissively. The two words,  _ I’m sorry,  _ crept across his tongue but struggled to pass his lips, and instead he kept silent, his fingers caressing gently through Amelia’s hair.

They stayed like that for a while, and Loki didn’t break his hold on her until Amelia pulled away, at which point she rubbed her sore eyes on the sleeve of her sweater and her lips formed a weak, watery smile. “Haven’t had a hug like that in five years.”

Evidently, neither had Loki, not for a long time.

Amelia’s distress appeared to have calmed now, like undisturbed waters as opposed to a whirlpool of suffering, though Loki remained vigilant - he thought she’d cried her final tears before he’d put her to bed, but he had been wrong then. The woman continued to sway slightly in her drunken stupor, and whispered a few murmurs of gratefulness - for what, Loki did not know; he did not deserve her thanks after the things he had so carelessly said - and she finally cast her gaze to the rest of the room, the room she had ignored for five whole years.

Her eyes fell to the medical book lying on the rumpled sheets of her brother’s bed, and then to the laptop, which sat ominously open on the desk, the dusty, black screen void of life, like it had been abandoned in a hurry. Amelia took two steps and carefully shut the device, her touch leaving polished smudges where the dust clung to her fingertips, and then she looked at the notepad covered in scrawly writing.

A soft huff left her mouth as she picked it up in both hands and blew across the paper, removing the layer of dust to better read the words Loki thought to be illegible.

“You can read that?” He remarked lightly, and Amelia gave a breathy laugh.

“Just about”, she answered, cocking her head as she held the writing pad at arm’s length, “Aaron wrote poetry in his spare time. He never usually let me read them cause he thought they were super cringy”, she paused to chuckle, “I didn’t think they were cringy…” Her eyes skimmed the paper, squinting slightly, and Loki couldn’t tell if she was struggling to make sense of the scribbly, faded lines or if her face was scrunching up with emotion.

“What does it say?” he enquired curiously.

Amelia smiled crookedly, “It’s a romantic poem”, she spoke, before reciting it,  _ “You are a finely carved sculpture of ice, crafted and chiseled to perfection. You glimmer with reflected light and draw all eyes in the room. I thought you might’ve looked my way, but I know I must have imagined it. For I am just a puddle, and you made me that way.” _

The woman fell silent, the smile lingering on her face, and Loki quirked an eyebrow, “That was… interesting.”

Amelia nibbled at her bottom lip, a flicker of amusement shining in her eyes, “Alright, they might be a little bit cringy”, she giggled, “But it’s endearing too. I guess Aaron had a crush on someone… a cute nurse, probably.”

Loki had to agree, it did sound like the sort of thing a besotted Midgardian might come up with, but then again, he had read worse poetry many years prior while perusing the Asgardian library for reading material that he hadn’t already devoured several times over. It was fascinating, the things you could learn about a deceased person from just a few of their forgotten belongings.

The sound of the desk chair creaking drew Loki’s attention away from his fleeting thoughts and he watched Amelia sink down into it, uncaring of the grime that would adhere to her clothes, and she covered her mouth with her hand, determined not to break down  _ again.  _ Was there even a drop of water left in her body for her to cry out?

She managed to admirably hold herself together, but choked out a few words that weighed down on her mind, “I wonder if they knew how my brother felt about them… or if they were just oblivious to his fondness.”

Loki contemplated the verse of the short poem for a few moments, “You can’t know for sure, but perhaps it was your brother who was oblivious.” His statement seemed to have a mollifying effect on Amelia, and she nodded her head lightly in agreement.

“Maybe.” She concurred, and placed the notepad down prudently in the same place she’d picked it up from. Silence engulfed them, and Loki knew her mind was rife with bustling thoughts. He did not know how he could further comfort her.

He shifted on his feet, “Do you want me to leave?”

Amelia swallowed, her eyes twitching slightly as she appeared to think about it, before ultimately nodding her head, an apologetic look seeping into her expression, “I’m sorry”, she spoke quietly, “I think… I need to be alone for a bit.” And then she tried to cover the grim tone of her voice with a smile and a playful lilt, “Give me, like, a week to pick myself up off the floor, okay?”

Loki offered her a small smile of his own, giving her shoulder a brief squeeze in his hand, a promise that he would do just that. “Get some sleep, Amelia.” He told her, and left the apartment without another word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanna know now what you all thought was hidden in that locked room, and if any of you got it right :P 
> 
> I promise we'll have way less angst next chapter... and... something special... for everyone who has waited soooooo patiently ;) So many people left a comment last chapter and it honestly made me so happy - keep leaving those wonderful comments <3 They POWER me <3 ;D


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You know, ah… I really didn’t think you were going to come back”, she finished with a skittish laugh that bordered on neurotic.
> 
> For a moment, Loki could only stare at her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh SHIT whaddup it's ya new chapter my dudes! I was so DETERMINED to get this chapter out today, and whaddya know, it's SUPER LOOOOOONG because you all left so many lovely comments that motivated the heck out of me.
> 
> I hope you enjoy... that wonderful treat I promised ;)

Loki wasn’t sure leaving Amelia to her own devices for a full week following her confession of suicidal tendencies was perhaps the best way to allow her to deal with her sorrow, but she had asked him to give her time alone to remedy her morose and dejected state, and he knew the importance of allowing her privacy while she was managing her emotions; besides, Loki was sure that by entering her deceased brother’s room after all this time, Amelia had finally transcended beyond the figurative, debilitating barrier she had unknowingly constructed in her mind, and had begun to take the necessary steps towards the final stage of grief: acceptance.

After a couple of days, Loki had been tempted to check up on Amelia, just so he could be sure she was, at the very least, coping. Instead, he spent a substantial amount of time staring down at his phone, vaguely hoping in the back of his mind that the woman might send him a reassuring message to indicate she was alive and well. No such message came.

After four days, he had caved and sent her a brief text that merely enquired  _ ‘Are you alright?’  _ and waited agonisingly for the next half hour when she didn’t immediately respond. She had, of course, eventually, and Loki had picked up his phone with record timing in the same millisecond it vibrated, revealing the notification.

_ ‘I’m okay. I’m at work.’  _ The words had read, followed by what looked like a little yellow smiling face within her message; he’d quirked an eyebrow at the tiny icon as a rush of relief flooded through him - Amelia was at work, which meant she was well and motivated enough to remove herself from bed and face the world.

Loki’s concern was abated for the rest of the week, and he returned to the training room to spar regularly with Thor, who was pleased to find that his brother no longer seemed as troubled with his thoughts as he previously did. The God of Thunder did not bring up his weekly-fluctuating moods, but Loki could see in his brother’s still-working eye, the calculating look that denoted nothing but careful consideration. If Thor was under the belief that his attentiveness for his brother was subtle, then he was gravely mistaken.

It was no secret that the other occupants of Avengers Tower were so incredibly curious about Loki’s affinity with Amelia, but they knew that if they attempted to ask innocent questions, pry further, or even try to offer advice, they would be met with undesirable snark.

_ “Remember when I asked for your opinion, Stark? Me neither.” _

_ “Oh, I didn’t realise you were an expert on my life, Banner. Please, continue, I’ll take notes.” _

_ “This might come as quite a shock to you, brother, but what if I told you that my personal life was absolutely none of your business?” _

Loki wasn’t running low on snide comebacks by any means, but his patience was certainly running thin for the constant barrage of questions he often found himself receiving; it was like a damned riot - as soon as one of them began to interrogate him, the others joined promptly, and Loki found it was far easier to simply gravitate away from their still-blaring voices and find somewhere peaceful he could sit and read his books instead of listening to their pointless questioning.

It was the  _ exact _ reason he enjoyed Amelia’s company in comparison to theirs. They talked too much about subjects that irritated him, while Amelia talked pleasantly and sparingly about little stories or snippets of her life that he actually grew to take an interest in. He didn’t quite know  _ why _ he had taken an interest in them, but it was enjoyable to see her speak enthusiastically and with a smile.

He hoped, as he made his way back to Amelia’s home on Friday evening, that the woman was in a more content state of mind and would be willing to share small anecdotes and narratives of her day as she usually did.

_ Knock, knock, knock. _

Loki’s hand fell back to his side and he waited quietly, listening with bated breath for the telling noise of Amelia’s pattering footsteps across her wooden floor; it wasn’t quite as eager as he was used to, but the sound did follow, and Loki expelled the agitation from his expression just in time for the woman to answer the door.

The door swung open, and there stood Amelia, her hair slightly ruffled as it always was, fading shadows below her eyes, and a tight nervousness that manifested itself as a sheepish smile upon her face. Those were the first few things Loki noticed; the second thing he noticed was that Amelia was wearing her figure-hugging purple blouse she had worn many weeks back - the one that had initially caught his eye.

“Amelia. You look-”

“Like a mess?” Amelia cut in with a light-hearted smile on her face as she closed the door to her apartment behind him.

Loki smiled in response to her jesting tone, “You look so much better”, he corrected, and Amelia’s eyes flickered down shyly, a tinge of redness reaching her cheeks.

“I’m really sorry about last week”, she spoke softly, the sound of shame very prominent in her voice, “I’m so… embarrassed… that you had to… see me like that.” Her speech came slow and uncertain, as though she was picking her words carefully, “You know, ah… I really didn’t think you were going to come back”, she finished with a skittish laugh that bordered on neurotic, evident that she really wasn’t amused by her own statement in the slightest.

For a moment, Loki could only stare at her.

His lips parted, along with the lightest shake of his head; he wanted to ask her  _ why, why would I not come back?  _ But perhaps her memory was fogged from the alcohol that had clouded her mind - he had stayed with her when she was at her most vulnerable, and yet she believed he would still abandon her. 

Instead, he snapped his lips shut and let his actions do the talking - removing his gloves, he reached out to cup Amelia’s face with his palm; it was a wordless comfort, something surprisingly affectionate for Loki’s standards, though the gesture felt all too right. Amelia’s eyes widened fractionally, but she smiled, and her own hand rose to cover his, slowly and daintily, as though she was afraid he would retract the delicate touch.

His thumb grazed the pinkness of her cheek as his fingertips curled slightly through her hair, and he realised that her locks were just a little bit shorter than when he last saw them.

“You’ve had your hair cut”, he remarked, running his fingers through the slightly chaotic tresses, and Amelia bit her lip in a vain attempt to hide her brilliant smile.

“Most guys don’t notice things like that”, she murmured demurely, and Loki huffed an exhale, because how could one not notice the way Amelia’s curls framed her face just a little more perfectly than before?

She peeked up at him fondly through her glasses and Loki’s gaze went straight to her eyes, admiring the warmth and kindness reflected back at him. He once described her brown eyes as plain and boring - oh, how foolish he had been. Her eyes were beautiful.

_ Kiss her,  _ his brain urged him. Her lips looked so soft, and he remembered at once the way she had drunkenly asked to kiss him. Loki wondered briefly whether she remembered too, but the thought dispersed - she had been drunk, that was all, drunk with no filter on the thoughts running through her head.

He looked away from her, his hand falling from her face as he forced his gaze towards Aaron Avery’s old room by way of distracting himself from his intrusive thoughts. The door was open, allowing ventilation, and the curtains were pulled apart, permitting sunlight to filter in; apart from the bed, wardrobe and the desk, the room appeared surprisingly barren.

“You cleared the room out”, Loki observed, and Amelia followed his gaze and nodded lightly in affirmation.

“Something I should’ve done a long time ago”, the woman declared gently, “I worked up the nerve to give the room a good scrub from top to bottom, too”, she smiled with diffidence, “You would not believe how many spiders were chilling in there.” She shuddered slightly, shaking her head with a look of revulsion, and Loki could tell she was covering her ruefulness with jokes, as she tended to do.

“You moved those metal cabinets by yourself?” Loki enquired with a arched eyebrow; Amelia wasn’t tiny, but those filing drawers had looked quite heavy for a human to manoeuvre alone.

Amelia flushed slightly, “Ah, no. I tried to, but they were still pretty hefty even after I emptied the files out”, she breathed a sigh, a look of exasperation befalling her face, “Ethan helped me…”

Loki’s eyes narrowed, “What?” he muttered, irritation spiking at the thought of that sleazy man even  _ looking _ at Amelia, let alone being close in proximity to her. “Why? You could have sent me a message on my phone - I would have helped you”, he proclaimed, surprised by his own words. It was true, though. If she had called and asked for help, he would have come.

Amelia smiled appreciatively, and then snickered, “I specifically recall you giving me your number on the condition that I refrain from bombarding you with pointless messages”, her voice was full of jest, and Loki rolled his eyes.

“Obviously that doesn’t categorise as  _ pointless,  _ Amelia.” He stated, even as she giggled and waved it off; Loki’s mouth formed a frown, “Why did you ask  _ him  _ for help? I thought you didn’t like him.”

Amelia raised an eyebrow at Loki’s marginally clipped tone of voice, “I didn’t ask him for help. He practically invited himself in to help me when he saw me carrying boxes of Aaron’s old stuff out the door”, she nibbled at the inside of her cheek, “I tried to politely get rid of him but he just… didn’t seem to understand that I wanted him gone.”

Loki bristled, his jaw clenching automatically at the notion that Amelia’s neighbour had refused to leave when asked; he knew there was a reason that man had rubbed him the wrong way - Ethan was annoyingly persistent despite being told  _ ‘no’.  _ The worst kind of man, in Loki’s opinion.

“Anyway, do you wanna sit down?” Amelia seemed eager to steer the subject away from her unmannerly neighbour, likely having seen the aggravated knit in Loki’s eyebrows, and quickly motioned the couch with a wave of her hand as she took a few tentative steps towards the kitchen, “I got rid of the alcohol I had left - well, except for the red wine, cause you like it - so if you wanna drink, that’s fine”, she explained, pulling a brightly coloured can from the fridge, “It’s just soda for me now”, she smiled bashfully, clearly reminded of what the alcohol had done to her mind the week prior, “I don’t really want a repeat of last Friday.”

Loki shrugged out of his coat, hung it on the rack by the door, and made his way to the sofa, unbuttoning his suit jacket as he went, “I appreciate the sentiment, but don’t you think you will be tempted by the wine if the urge to drink arises?” He did not mind drinking something else for Amelia’s sake, and he was moderately pleased to find she was so keen to be away with the carousing habit that had sent her spiraling downwards.

“Naaaah”, Amelia held the note on her tongue comically, opening her soda can with a flick of her finger; she smiled as the compressed fizz escaped and took a small sip, “I’ve never really been a fan of red wine.”

Loki regarded her silently for a few moments before he nodded, “I’ll have the wine, then.”

As Amelia poured him a glass, Loki’s eyes flickered to a cardboard box placed unobtrusively beside the coffee table - it was a new addition to the room, but he had not noticed it until he sat down. Amelia noticed his curious gaze as she placed his glass on the surface before him and smiled sadly, indicating the box of odds and ends, “I wanted to keep a few of Aaron’s things, like his poetry, a few oddities… he had a drawer in his room full of drawings he’d been gifted from some of his younger patients”, she paused to lean down and proceeded to proffer a pristine piece of paper with colourful, childlike etchings. Loki eyed the drawing, which seemed to exhibit the crude image of a young boy with a cast on his arm standing beside a man in a doctor’s coat, both of which were smiling widely.

“The writing in the corner says  _ thank you for-” _

_ “-Thank you for fixing my elbow”,  _ Loki read, a smirk on his face, “Yes, this child’s writing is, evidently, legible, even with a broken arm. Unlike your brother’s penmanship”, he finished with a teasing tone, and Amelia shot him a sarcastic look.

“My brother was a doctor. All doctors have terrible handwriting, didn’t you know?” Amelia laughed, “You’d think they all took the same  _ ‘how not to write’  _ class in medical school.”

Loki was pleased with the authentic curl of Amelia’s lips, exposing the return of her high spirits, and he found himself smiling in response to her content expression; she returned the child’s drawing to the cardboard box that Loki finally noticed was marked  _ ‘Aaron’s Stuff’ _ and sat down beside him, taking another sip of her fizzy drink before giving Loki a look as if she was going to say something, but then reconsidered, closing her mouth.

“What is it, Amelia?” Loki enquired, all too familiar with her characteristics, and Amelia blinked with faux innocence and shrugged her shoulders; Loki pressed, “You have that look on your face like you want to ask me something, but can’t get the words out.”

She became a little flustered, her cheeks warm as she distractedly tapped her finger against the side of her soda can to the tune of a song in her head. She sighed, her mouth opening and closing a few times before she finally gathered the words to speak, “It’s just… James”, Amelia looked him in the eyes and Loki straightened beneath her meaningful gaze, “It’s come to my attention that we don’t really… know anything about each other.”

Loki blinked a few times fast, swallowing reflexively, “What do you mean?” he asked calmly, though there was a sudden pulse of agitation within him at the prospect that she was going to begin asking him questions about himself - he kept his identity a secret from her for a reason - “Of course we know things about each other, you never stop talking”, he deflected, forcing the gentle quip into his response, hoping Amelia wouldn’t pick up on the unmistakable unease in his manner.

He had a Silvertongue, clever in the art of crafting lies with ease; he could fabricate an unexceptional life story without breaking a sweat, something believable and  _ boring _ that would likely prevent Amelia from asking any more questions, but… Loki did not  _ want  _ to lie. For perhaps the first time in his long life. He did not want to dig a deeper hole than he had already by impulsively giving a fake name, hiding the hideous truth of who he really was from this unsuspecting woman.

What he  _ wanted  _ was the unobtainable reality in which Amelia knew the truth, and things could continue as they had. But that would never happen. He was a monster who had killed people and he would never be forgiven for his transgressions, least of all by someone as kind and caring as Amelia.

_ If only she knew,  _ Loki thought. But of course, it was naive to think he could trick Amelia forever; she  _ would _ find out, eventually, one way or another, and he did not want that day to come so soon.

“You know things about me, yeah”, Amelia spoke, “But I know  _ nothing  _ about you.”

Loki averted his eyes, taking a sip of wine to buy time. Depending on what she wanted to know about him, he could perhaps…  _ weave  _ truths into his deception - warp the facts so that he could reveal parts of himself without stating the context - that way he could protect his identity and reveal whatever Amelia wished to know.

Amelia gave a sigh at his blatant show of discomfort, “Alright, you’re clearly not enthusiastic with sharing things about yourself”, she gave him an understanding smile, “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to, and I won’t make you explain yourself, but you know that you can, like, trust me, right? I mean, if you have secrets, who am I gonna tell?”

Trusting Amelia wasn’t the problem. The issue lied with Amelia’s reaction to the truth; there was no way she didn’t know the crimes that  _ Loki of Asgard  _ had committed against the people of Earth, and if she found out… well, Amelia didn’t seem the type of person who would forgive a man that took innocent lives.

“What do you want to know?” Loki muttered in resignation; the woman said so herself that she wouldn’t force him to explain himself if he chose not to answer her questions, but there were some questions that would just seem ridiculously suspicious for him not to answer if he wanted to continue the charade that he was a regular mortal man.

“Hey, we could play twenty questions!” Amelia exclaimed, pointing a finger up like she’d just had the most amazing idea, and Loki winced slightly at the suggestion.

“Twenty questions sounds like an awful lot of questions”, he responded wearily; he’d rather not spend the evening cautiously revealing things about himself.

Amelia snorted, “Okay, it doesn’t have to be  _ twenty _ questions, but we can take turns asking each other things we want to know. How’s that sound?” She looked all too hopeful and Loki begrudgingly agreed with a nod.

“Great, I’ll start”, she put her finger to her lip in consideration, as if there was a severe limit to the multitude of questions swirling through her head and she wanted to choose wisely, before her eyes lit up, “What’s your last name?”

Loki had learnt from his time on Earth that it was exceedingly rare for humans to follow the same naming customs as Asgardians - an overwhelming percentage of the Midgardian population used the convention of group names that carried throughout familial lines as opposed to the child simply inheriting the second name from the parent’s first name.  _ Odinson  _ and  _ Laufeyson  _ were too recognisable so he sifted through the various surnames of the Midgardians he did know, hoping to think of one that was common enough not to link back with anybody of note.  _ Stark? No. Banner? No. Romanoff, Rogers, Fury, Barton-  _

_ Barton. _ ‘Barton’ sounded discreet enough. Clint Barton was better known by his alias, Hawkeye, so Loki saw no reason why the name would not suffice, “It’s Barton”, he answered nonchalantly, and Amelia nodded, unperturbed by his extended pause, because naturally Amelia had no reason to suspect him of lying to her.

“James Barton”, Amelia tested, and then smiled, “I feel like I should’ve known that ages ago”, she gave Loki an expectant look and brought her can of soda to her mouth, “Now you ask me a question.”

“Oh”, Loki murmured. What was he supposed to ask her? What did he want to know about her that he hadn’t already discovered? The curiosity about Amelia’s rage towards her father drifted into the forefront of his mind, but she had reacted so unpredictably the first time Loki had mentioned him, and the last thing he wanted to do was upset her.

So he started off with a simple question, “Have you always lived in Manhattan?”

Amelia’s eyebrows rose slightly, as though that wasn’t the question she had expected Loki to ask, “No, actually. I used to live in New Jersey. My brother and I moved here just after my mother died, which was, ah, over ten years ago now”, she pursed her lips, “I don’t miss living there.”

Loki nodded, “I see.”

“What about you?” Amelia leaned in closer, inquisitive and poised to listen.

“I used to live… somewhere else. Far away from here.” He knew his words were cryptic and offered next to nothing by way of satiating Amelia’s interest, but he couldn’t very well divulge that information without giving himself away. “My old home was destroyed.” He’d told her of this before, and Amelia had inferred that his home had perished in a fire - she didn’t need to know anything more than  _ that  _ about the tragedy.

Amelia knew not to press, “What about your family?”

Loki gave a sly smile, “Isn’t it my turn to ask a question?”

With a roll of her eyes, Amelia conceded, nodding her head for him to speak.

“Would you tell me about your mother?” It was a fair question, Loki mused, given Amelia had jumped straight to enquiring about his own family, and the woman’s face formed a wistful smile.

“My mother”, she began, “was beautiful, smart, funny, and the best story-teller who ever lived.” Amelia spoke so matter-of-factly that Loki hardly doubted the exaggeration in her words, “I have a wild imagination and it’s all thanks to her; she was the reason I read so many books growing up - and she used to tell me made up stories about all sorts of things. Sorcerers, goblins, elves, mythological creatures - and sometimes”, she held up a finger, “we would play pretend. I’d be a witch, but like, a  _ good _ witch. Not an evil witch. Mum would be a dragon, and it would start out like you expect- I would be summoned and sent on a quest to take out the fearsome beast! But then it would inevitably avert from your cliche storyline and I would become friends with the dragon, and she would become my sidekick, sometimes my brother would join in too-” she paused, growing red all of a sudden at the sight of Loki’s amused smile, “Sorry, I’m talking too much. What was your question again? I went off on a tangent.”

Loki chuckled, the image of Amelia acting out such tales with her mother gave him much entertainment, “I think my question was answered.” It reminded him of his own childhood, when he was  _ very  _ young and often acted out similar games with his brother. Thor always wanted to be the hero in their innocent little escapades, and Loki was always far too happy to play the opposition.  _ Some things never change,  _ Loki thought, as he swallowed a mouthful of wine.

“Now will you tell me about your family?” Amelia shifted in her seat, sitting cross-legged as she watched him attentively, and Loki’s eyes flickered unwittingly down as her blouse stretched slightly across her chest. He looked away quickly, not wishing to be caught staring at her bust.

“Um… uh”, Loki stammered for a moment, “My parents are dead, and my brother-” he faltered at the look on Amelia’s face and realised that his words and unemotional tone didn’t really match well, “It happened a long time ago, I’m over it”, he lied, before she could predictably and empathetically murmur  _ ‘I’m sorry’  _ in that soft, little voice. Amelia frowned but did not interrupt, so he continued, “My brother and I have had our differences in the past”,  _ that was putting it lightly,  _ “but things seem… alright at the moment.” He shrugged, “There isn’t really much else to tell.” He pressed his glass to his lips, sipping the red liquid as Amelia appeared thoughtful.

“Did they…” Amelia trailed off, clearly indecisive over whether she should ask her next question, “did they die in the fire?”

Loki shook his head, “No. My father grew frail and passed away naturally-” which was only half true, “-and my mother was killed.”

Amelia swallowed in shocked silence before speaking in a low voice, “That’s terrible… I’m so sor-”

“Why are you  _ sorry?”  _ Loki chimed in, eyebrows drawn together in a purposeful stare, “Why do you always say you’re sorry? It was not your doing.” While he may have spoken a little forcefully, he did not intend to seem exasperated by her utterance, though he wasn’t sure whether Amelia saw it that way given the surprised widening of her eyes. Loki was merely curious, and a little perplexed by her insistent apologies.

Amelia’s mouth opened and closed like a fish for a few moments, “Well, I… I know, but… I’m still sorry that you had to go through that”, she admitted, her head cocked slightly. “I care about you, you know”, she raised her hand as she said this, letting it rest soothingly on Loki’s arm, and Loki almost flinched from the unforeseen, tingling shiver that seized his shoulders at Amelia’s benevolent words.

The pang of guilt still radiated in his chest, knowing that he was undeserving of her care - but it was compelling to hear Amelia say those things, almost addictive, in fact. He was ashamed to find himself pining for more.

He blinked a few times fast, shaking his head free of such thoughts, and continued their little game, “Why do you wish your father was dead?”

He watched carefully as the muscles in Amelia’s face twitched and she lowered her gaze, bringing her hands both to her lap where she began to fiddling with her soda can anew, “Did I say that?” She enquired gently, sounding simultaneously sheepish and bitter.

“Yes, essentially. Do you take it back?” Loki quirked an eyebrow, unable to read the expression on Amelia’s face.

“No”, Amelia grumbled, “I’m just not usually that blunt. I suppose drunken me is, though.” She sighed, “My father was like, the complete opposite of my mum. I remember making a macaroni craft picture for him at school once when I was six years old, and when I gave it to him, he threw it away and told me it was stupid and pointless.” She nibbled her bottom lip angrily, “He always kept up appearances in front of my mother, pretending like he cared about me, but when mum wasn’t there, he’d tell me I was useless and that he wished I was never born. He was always extra hard on me, yelling at me whenever I did even the slightest thing wrong, brushing off what few achievements I earned in school like they were nothing. My brother was his favourite and he didn’t try to hide it.”

Loki watched the creases of Amelia’s face deepen into a frown; he understood the pain of being cast aside and lost in the shadow of an older sibling. “Were you not jealous of your brother?” He wondered aloud; Amelia always spoke so fondly of Aaron that it was difficult to imagine that she ever looked upon him in a bitter light. Unlike with himself, where it had been all to easy for Loki to grow resentful of Thor throughout their childhood.

“No, Aaron didn’t approve of our father’s mistreatment of me. Aaron was always defending me, reassuring me, telling me that I wasn’t a failure and that the problem lied with our rotten father. After mum died, my father had no reason to hold back. He threatened to kick me out of the house several times. The first thing Aaron did once he finished medical school and secured a job was move both of us out of there.” 

Loki nodded stiffly, entirely comprehending of her heavy emotions and fierce hatred towards her father; he too had felt those exact sentiments towards Odin. “When was the last time you spoke to him?” 

Amelia huffed a mirthless laugh, “Aaron’s funeral”, she answered, “Y’know I had this… hope… that my father might’ve come to his goddamn senses after my brother died. I don’t know  _ why  _ I thought it might have changed things, but… my father was quiet throughout the funeral service, and he approached me after it - bear in mind, I was an absolute wreck at the time - and I thought he was going to apologise for all the years he was cruel to me, but do you know what he said?” Amelia sniffed, her expression drawn tight, and it was clear to Loki she wasn’t too far off from crying again. He put his arm around her reflexively, prompting her not with words, but with a cautious look.

Amelia blinked away the threat of tears, sinking appreciatively into the comforting half-embrace, “He said it should’ve been me, not Aaron”, she bit down hard on her lower lip, “He said it was my fault Aaron was dead, and that  _ it should’ve been me;  _ and I just stood there, not knowing what to say”, she raised the still-cold can of soda to her cheeks, cooling the heat of negative emotions rising from her face, “I wish I’d told him to go fuck himself, but I just froze like an idiot. I mean, can you imagine being hated so much by somebody who’s supposed to love you unconditionally? Do you know what that’s like?”

Loki wasn’t sure if her question was rhetorical, but he found himself answering anyway, “Yes. I do.”

The woman turned to face him tearily, sorrowful creases in her forehead, “You do?” Her watery eyes looked imploringly at him, wishing for him to continue, and he breathed a sigh, shrugging his shoulders.

“I was… adopted”, he told her, “and my parents kept it from me. I found out by myself, and it was upsetting, to say the least.” He couldn’t very well explain in-depth just how upsetting it was - that he belonged to a race of creatures inherently  _ hated  _ by his adoptive family, and the people he believed himself to be apart of. “And when I discovered this, everything slipped into place. I’d been raised in my brother’s shadow, under the pretense that we were equal, but we never were. My  _ father-”  _ he spoke the word with disdain, “favoured my brother, and my brother often treated me as though I was inferior to him.” Thor had since grown to acknowledge his mistakes, but Loki still held a grudge for all those years his brother had thought him lesser.

“Sometimes I think my mother was the only one who truly loved me, and I let her down”, he divulged conclusively, and eyed the slight quiver of Amelia’s lip - her expression was drowned in sympathy and the gloss of her eyes only became more prominent with his words.

In Amelia’s defense, she seemed to be trying valiantly not to cry; with a sharp sniff, she gave a faint smile, “Guess we both have issues, huh?”

“You could say that.”

With only a moment of prudent hesitation, Amelia placed her soda can on the coffee table, shifted closer and wrapped her arms around him, her body positioned at an odd angle just to keep the sentimental contact; Loki had mastered the art of not tensing up in response to her strong affections, and the warmth of her body through the material of their clothes was quite noticeable, as was the vanilla scent emanating from her hair once again. 

If anybody had told Loki three months ago that he would find himself succumbing to the need of physical affection - and with a mortal, no less - then he would have laughed  _ hard _ in their face, but here he sat, docile and peaceable in the arms of a this woman, and it was positively idyllic.

Loki basked in the intimate closeness for just a few moments before pulling her nearer still, till she was virtually sat in his lap. The threat of her tears were still very discernible from the glint in her eyes, and Loki searched his brain for something that could potentially cheer her up.

“Will you tell me about your occupation?” She had been happy before while recounting snippets of her work as a florist, so it stood to reason the subject could take her mind away from any distressing memories.

As predicted, a small smile pulled at Amelia’s lips, “Yeah… sure. I’ve been working there eight years now, and I’ve always had a thing for flowers so, y’know, it’s a pretty great job. The people are lovely, there’s only  _ occasionally  _ a snobby customer, but most of the time they’re friendly.” She retracted her arms to wipe away the wetness of her eyes, but remained very comfortably sat in Loki’s lap.

“I arrange flowers, make bouquets, construct floral displays - it’s pretty therapeutic. Do you have a favourite flower?” She tilted her head up to meet his gaze, and Loki became rather aware of the short distance between their faces; Amelia’s eyes were no longer teary, and instead shined with contentment, he could easily describe them as doe-like.

Loki cleared his throat, shaking his head gently, “No, not really.”

“Oh, well… I like carnations. Red ones, specifically.  _ Dark _ red ones, even more specifically”, she licked her lips, grinning, “They symbolise love, and they look gorgeous. People are always so focused on red roses when it comes to buying flowers for their partners - on Valentines day especially, that they forget that carnations are just as meaningful.”

Amelia’s face was rather mesmerising as she spoke about her floral passion, and Loki couldn’t help but enquire more, just for the chance to see her eyes light up, “How many species of flower do you stock?”

The woman let out a tittering laugh, melodic and happy, music to Loki’s ears, “Oh, wow, well, quite a few. I don’t know how many off the top of my head, but hmm… we’ve got carnations, roses, tulips, daisies, daffodils, sunflowers, chrysanthemums, lavender-”

“What do they symbolise?”

Amelia giggled again, “Lavenders? They commonly symbolise serenity and devotion.”

“And the others?”

“You want me to list the connotations of each different coloured species of flower I sell?” There was a playful lilt to her voice as she quirked an eyebrow, the smile on her face stronger than ever, and Loki smirked, shrugging his shoulders.

“Consider it a challenge.”

Amelia dramatically and comically rolled her eyes, “Well now I  _ have  _ to, don’t I?” 

Loki listened attentively as she began to recite the meanings of different flowers, counting on her fingers as she did so -  _ which was rather impractical, given she could list far more than ten, but it was something she did automatically, as if it helped her to remember _ \- until she had trouble recalling any floral species she hadn’t already listed.

“Mmm, ah… oh, primroses symbolise courage, and, uh… peonies promise good fortune-”

“What about lilies?” Loki asked curiously; lilies were the flowers that Amelia always placed on her brother’s grave, and he was interested to know if there was any particular reason for that.

Amelia paused, her lips parted slightly, and she blinked a few times, “Lilies… um, white lilies symbolise… chastity and virtue, but, uh…” she breathed an almost inaudible sigh, fiddling with her fingers, and Loki inclined his head, unable to perceive the meaning behind her body language. “To  _ me…  _ lilies say sorry.”

Loki wasn’t entirely sure what she meant by that, but he surmised it probably had something to do with her brother, judging by the way her gaze had fallen forlornly to her fidgeting fingers; he tilted her head up with a finger below her chin, smirking roguishly in the hope that it would encourage her own smile, “Have we asked twenty questions yet? Because this game is lasting quite a long time.”

His playful words had the desired effect, and Amelia smiled again, dipping her head in a nod, “Well, I think you might’ve asked more questions than I did. Can I even the score and ask you one more?”

She sounded oddly bold all of a sudden, an impish gleam in her eyes that reminded him all too much of himself, a hint of daring mischief that sent a pleasant tingle through his chest, “Go right ahead.”

Amelia held his gaze for a lasting moment, before her eyes flickered briefly to his lips and back, “May I kiss you now?”

Loki felt himself swallow hard with incredulity, his eyes widening as he once again felt that familiar  _ pulse  _ behind his ribcage, like his heart was threatening to jump out of his chest, because  _ this time  _ Amelia was sober, there was nothing impeding her ability to think clearly, and she suddenly had this  _ rakish  _ look in her eyes that triggered an undeniably charmed reaction from within him. 

He wanted her,  _ and she wanted him. _

Loki licked his lips, and nodded, admiring the pinkening flesh of Amelia’s cheeks, and she grinned, bringing her hand up to cup his face before leaning in.

Amelia’s lips were warm,  _ soft,  _ wonderful, everything he’d anticipated, and he remained outrageously still as she kissed him, as if even the slightest movement would startle her away; he only realised his eyes had slid closed when he opened them again as she withdrew a few inches, and she searched his eyes for a telling reaction.

It was the most chaste kiss he’d ever experienced. It was certainly nothing like the kisses he’d received from his various bed partners long ago - they’d been wet and messy, a few of them even rather  _ bitey _ in the heat of the moment, full of crazed passion and driven by lust. Intense and fierce, but never so virtuous, and it took him off-guard, captivating him with a feeling he could not place.

He covered his dazed state with a wicked grin, “You call that a kiss?” he quipped, and didn’t give Amelia even a second to react before he captured her lips again, this time filled with pent-up desire. He tilted her head back, intent on deepening the kiss, but she pulled away so suddenly, moving off of his lap, and Loki felt his stomach drop, afraid he’d come across as forceful and scared her off…

Until she repositioned herself to be straddling him, and closed the gap between them once again. Loki growled low in his throat, pulling her closer by the waist till they were practically plastered against each other, and he wasted no time with intensifying the kiss, rolling his tongue against her bottom lip until her mouth parted; he thrust it inside to brush against her own, spurred on by the breathy moan escaping her nose.

_ This  _ was what Loki had wanted to do the night they danced; the overwhelming ache to move his mouth against hers, and  _ taste  _ her - there was a notable citrusy tang to her mouth, perhaps from the soda she’d been drinking - and he devoured it, leaving no inch of her mouth unexplored. His hand found her hair and he massaged his fingers through her short tresses, pulling her closer still; their noses bumped together from the vigour behind it, but Loki did not care - he had  _ hungered  _ for this.

She squirmed on his lap, causing unintentional friction, and Loki gave a throaty groan, the rumble reverberating from his mouth to hers, and Amelia moaned again in response, nipping gently at his lip.

Amelia broke the kiss with the much needed necessity to  _ breathe,  _ deep inhales and exhales that Loki himself matched - he’d been so eager to uphold the intimacy that he had almost forgotten about his burning lungs; the sight of the woman’s face so lewd and gasping for air sent a bolt of  _ want  _ down his spine and straight to his groin. Her pupils were blown wide, eyes half-lidded, her cheeks red and her lips wet with saliva, and Loki suspected his appearance was no different.

He gripped her waist as they caught their breath and Amelia’s legs on either side of his thighs squeezed enticingly -  _ the little minx knew exactly what she was doing  _ \- and Loki’s thoughts reeled as he wondered where this confident audaciousness had been hiding; she was far from timid now, and clearly she knew just what she wanted.

“James”, she breathed, her pink tongue darting out to lick her lips, “do you want to stay the night?”

Loki swallowed, his mouth forming a delighted smirk as he read between the lines of her blatant proposition, “Yes, I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YES!!! FINALLY!!! KISSES!!!
> 
> You guys... the next chapter earns this story's explicit rating, just so y'all know. So if you want to see the good stuff, then bear in mind: comments = happy me = lengthier+faster updates.
> 
> Thank you <3 ;)


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m not smug”, Loki said in a smug tone, while grinning smugly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Sexual content ahead!
> 
> Writing smut is so difficult and stressful sometimes lmao - just want y'all to know that this is only my second time writing smut that I've posted online so I really hope it's alright and not mega cringeworthy. I try my hardest!

Amelia’s assertiveness was attractive, to say the least. Loki had not really thought about it until now, but in his head he had subconsciously constructed the concept that Amelia would be demure and shy in bed - the visuals had often drifted into his mind late at night when he was alone in his room; images of the woman all diffident and reserved, with wide and innocent eyes, nervous in anticipation for what was to come. He thought perhaps she would be the type to press her thighs together with uncertainty, or cover her chest once she was bare, and that only silky words could coax her to relax and allow him to bring quaking pleasure to her body.

He had misjudged her in that regard. Amelia was clearly no stranger to sex; she was no virginal maiden who had yet to be introduced to carnal pleasures, and it made Loki think, made him wonder how many people had had the delight of being allowed to touch Amelia before him. A spike of jealousy stabbed through his clouded mind, bringing a fleeting moment of discontent as Amelia continued to kiss him with all the enthusiasm she could muster, before he realised he had no need to be envious of anybody. He would have her now, and that is what mattered.

Loki’s throat vibrated with a growl, and in one swift movement he stood, lifting Amelia effortlessly without breaking the fierce contact between their lips. He smirked against her muffled squeal and she swung her arms around his neck to steady herself - not that he would’ve allowed her to fall - and Loki marched across the room with all the poise and elegance he always strove to exhibit, straight through the door to Amelia’s bedroom.

A string of giggles fell from the woman’s mouth as Loki dropped her to the bed and quickly shrugged out of his suit jacket, kicking his shoes off before he crawled above her, an almost predatory grin upon his face. He dipped down, stealing another ardent kiss, and trailed light touches up Amelia’s arm and to the back of her neck where he caressed through her hair. She reciprocated with gusto, dragging her fingertips down over his lower back with barely restrained tenacity.

Loki shivered, pulling back to admire the desire in her eyes, “Oh, Amelia. If I’d known this was what you wanted, we could have done this so much sooner.” He traced his thumb over her lips and became tremendously aware of the woman’s hands swiftly untucking his shirt from his trousers.

“Well, you didn’t exactly make it obvious that you were interested, James”, Amelia tittered; Loki felt a pull on his tie and looked down to find the woman keenly loosening it while simultaneously unbuttoning his shirt with surprisingly nimble fingers.

“Eager?” he teased, and Amelia bit her lip, eyes narrowing with an almost smoldering glance.

“It’s been a while”, she breathed, and the hint of desperation in her tone sent a stab of arousal through his body; Loki chuckled softly, rising up to straddle Amelia’s hips, and pulled the loose tie from his neck, working to unfasten the remaining buttons of his shirt.

“Then I won’t waste another moment”, Loki proclaimed, casting the garment aside to reveal his toned chest. He watched as Amelia’s gaze trailed down over his newly revealed skin, her excitement prominent in her eyes and the way her breathing sped up ever so slightly, but the upwards curl of her lips fell when she caught sight of the nasty scar at the base of his sternum. 

Loki’s body was littered with scars and blemishes from battles long gone, but none more conspicuous than the wound he had received while facing the Dark Elves on Svartalfheim, the injury he had used to fake his death against his unsuspecting brother. Amelia’s face held no revulsion at the sight, merely concern, and Loki could tell by the way her eyebrows knitted together that a hundred questions were running through her mind. 

But now was not the time; Loki’s finger curled under the collar of her blouse, “You’re overdressed, darling”, he rasped suggestively, and the impassioned look returned to Amelia’s face promptly. Her fingers worked at the buttons, freeing herself from the offending material, and she tossed it aside without much thought.

“Take this off”, Loki ordered, tugging at the strap of her black bra, hiding the trace of neediness in his voice, and Amelia licked her grinning lips, reaching below herself to unhook the clasp and free her breasts.

She was a gorgeous sight. Her pale skin glowed in the faint moonlight shining through the window and Loki allowed his fingertips to graze across her belly with feather-light proximity; he indulged, cupping the curve of her bosom, and breathed a sigh of delight at how soft she felt. 

He kissed her again, swallowing her moan as he caressed every inch of her exposed body, rolling and pinching her nipples between his fingers, and she arched into every touch, pawing impulsively at his broad shoulders, trying to pull him closer. Loki nipped his way down her jaw and to her neck, listening intently for Amelia’s sharp intakes of breath so he knew just where to find the most sensitive parts of her throat. 

Amelia gave an involuntary whimper as his tongue brushed just below her ear, and Loki smirked against her skin, revelling in the way she quivered beneath him. “Come on, James”, Amelia exhaled, her hot breath tickling his neck, and Loki reared back to give himself room to look upon her blatant arousal. Amelia’s cheeks were adoringly pink, heated with the sensation of just a few gentle strokes, and the warmth had begun to mist up her glasses.

She was dazzling like this, practically glowing with desire, and Loki felt his face heat up from just the sight of her, a titillating twinge pressing at the base of his spine, urging him to make haste in their lewd activity - yet, at the same time, he wanted to draw it out and see what other marvellous reactions he could lure from Amelia’s body.

“Have some patience, darling”, Loki assured with a wicked smile, “I won’t leave you unsatisfied.”

Amelia pulled her glasses from her face, dropping them off the side of the bed in hopes that they’d cushion themselves on the blouse she had earlier discarded, and eyed Loki with an impish look. “Bold claim”, she taunted, and he knew the challenging look on her face meant only to bait him into getting on with it. He was not so naive.

“Perhaps I’ll take some time to admire your body a little more”, Loki’s voice was gruff and teasing as he offhandedly unbuttoned her jeans, pulling them firmly down her legs to uncover even more of her; Amelia’s hands went straight to her underwear, intending for them to follow, but Loki stopped her, immediately pinning her wrists down.

“Not yet”, he told her, and Amelia let out a soft whine.

“What happened to not wasting another moment?” 

Loki simpered at the sight of her pouty lips, “That was before I discovered that desperation looks good on you, Amelia.” It was true, his perusal of her stimulated body had only left him wanting to tease her further; there was an exquisite reddish tint travelling between her breasts, up to her throat and Loki couldn’t help but leer, wishing to commit the view to memory. 

Her stomach and thighs were delightfully plump, as were her wide hips, and he playfully pinched her flesh between his fingers, finding amusement in her squeak of indignation. Amelia’s shoulders and upper arms were peppered with freckles similar to her cheeks, and there was a small misshapen birthmark below her right collarbone; she squirmed slightly under the drawn out, wordless attention and gave a little huff of frustration.

“James… if you don’t hurry, I’m  _ going  _ to lose interest”, she warned. An empty threat, of course; she craved his touch and her body betrayed this fact, for Loki could feel the accelerated pulse in her wrists below his fingertips, could sense the heat of the glowing blush across her body, and could hear the slight catch in her quickened breaths.

But Loki conceded under her pleading gaze, leaning down to nibble just above her belly button, before looking up at her below lidded eyes, “Okay, darling.” He released her wrists, and her hands flew to her underwear, quickly pushing them down to kick onto the floor, and she leaned back, parting her legs to offer Loki a better view.

Loki licked his lips at the sight of her flushed core, and hastily became very aware of how tight his trousers felt around his groin; the friction of the fabric working with the exceptional view to instill a sense of burning need inside of him.

“Now  _ you’re _ overdressed”, Amelia spoke in a dulcet tone as she devilishly bit her lip, and it took a surprising amount of Loki’s willpower to refrain from shedding the rest of his clothes and taking her right at that moment.

“Soon”, Loki promised, shuffling down between her legs, encouraging her to spread them further with the press of a hand on her thigh; he slipped two fingers between her delicate folds, evoking a gasp from her, and shallowly probed her, fantastically pleased to find her practically dripping wet for him.

“James, please”, she whispered,  _ “Please.” _

Loki groaned. The sound of lustful yearning in Amelia’s voice reverberated pleasantly through his ears, and the way she begged so wantonly left him itching to sink himself deep inside her; but Loki hid his urgency well behind a composed smirk, and lowered, dipping down into the woman’s legs to delve his tongue between her inner lips.

Amelia’s body jerked with a cry of surprise - clearly not having anticipated that he would begin with  _ this,  _ and by the string of gratified noises falling from her mouth, she was really quite happy at this development. Loki lapped at her orifice, thrusting his fingers in and out of her, spurred on by the sharp sounds she was making in response to the clever motions of his tongue; one of her hands came to rest against his head and pushed down, a rather clear hint that she wanted more, and Loki was all too happy to give it to her.

He licked and sucked, driving Amelia crazy with his natural skill -  _ it wasn’t just his astute lie-weaving that earned him the title of ‘Silvertongue’ -  _ while sinking his fingers further into her hot, tight canal. He moaned against her core, the vibrations of his throat only fueling her delight, and quickly found her clit, flicking his tongue against it purposefully. The sensations caused her keening to raise an octave, and she drove her hips up to plead for more contact.

It had been quite a while since Loki had done this for a woman and he was more than happy to find his aptitude had not suffered from lack of practise - the soft wails leaving Amelia’s mouth were more than evident of this fact.

Rubbing his fingers against her spongy inner wall, Loki rippled his tongue across the bud of nerves for just a few moments longer, until Amelia let out a sharp-edged shriek, squeezing his head between her thighs; she tightened around his fingers and Loki pulled back slightly, realising she had climaxed so soon from his ministrations. 

He breathed hot air over her center, a few throaty chuckles escaping him as he watched her shake from the aftershocks, and continued to lightly rub his thumb over her sensitive nub; she gasped from the overstimulation and squirmed under his lecherous gaze.

“James,  _ f-fuck,  _ ahh…” she sighed, and Loki smiled victoriously, feeling a distinguished triumph at having brought her to her peak so quickly.

“Already, darling?” He commented waggishly, licking his lips free of her juices -  _ and what a wonderful taste it was; _ Amelia let out a whine at his remark that quickly merged into a giggle, throwing her arm over her face to hide the clear embarrassment on her red cheeks.

“I did say its, ah, been a while”, she stammered as she worked to regain her breath, before her eyes narrowed on his complacent expression and she muttered, “You’re looking awfully smug there, James”, although the supposed bite in her words was relatively nonexistent when paired with the look of fulfillment on her face.

“I’m not smug”, Loki said in a smug tone, while grinning smugly.

Amelia scoffed, rolling her eyes, and Loki chuckled, reaching to unzip his trousers; the woman pushed herself up onto her elbows and watched Loki remove his pants and underwear all at once, her gaze falling to the impressive member erect between his legs. She licked her lips, unconsciously spreading her legs a little wider, and laid back against the pillows.

“Are you gonna fuck me now?” Amelia asked, a hint of hopeful excitement in her voice, and Loki smiled sarcastically as he crawled above her.

“No, I thought I might go and take a stroll down the street instead.”

At Loki’s jest, Amelia hooked her ankles around his hips and pulled him down, catching him off-guard, wrapping her arms around his neck to bring their lips together; Loki grunted as his cock bumped against her inner thigh and Amelia reached blindly between them to take it in hand and give it a few firm, eager strokes.

The simple touch sent electricity through Loki’s veins and he groaned against her mouth, thrusting gently into her fist; Amelia bit lightly on his bottom lip, coaxing another similarly approving noise from his throat and he pulled back, growing further excited by the woman’s brazen, intrepid attitude. It was quite wrong of him earlier to judge Amelia’s manner in bed by the way she held herself the rest of the time - Loki hated to be caught making wrongful assumptions, and he suspected Amelia knew he had now come to realise this, if the shameless smirk on her face was anything to go by.

“I want you inside me,  _ now”,  _ Amelia breathed, her lips glistening with saliva, and Loki could hardly wait another moment; he righted himself, taking his shaft in hand to give it a merciful squeeze and alleviate the desperate itch he felt, and guided it between Amelia’s legs, pausing at her entrance to rub the tip against her slick inner lips.

“Amelia”, Loki practically purred her name, “are you sure?” 

Even Loki did not know whether the intent of his question was to look for reassurance or to further tease the woman, but regardless of the purpose behind his soft inquiry, Amelia appeared to find her own interpretation in his hesitance.

_ “Ugh,  _ James,  _ please just go!  _ If you’re worried about getting me pregnant, that won’t happen, I have a contraceptive implant so just  _ hurry up!”  _ She babbled, and Loki blinked a few times fast - the thought of Amelia possibly becoming pregnant from their imminent coupling had not even passed his mind until the woman mentioned it, and the notion was enough to delay him further.

“Contraceptive implant?” Loki enquired; he just had to be sure.

Amelia let her head fall back against the pillow and she breathed a long sigh, “Yes, in my arm - it stops me from getting pregnant for at least another two years”, she explained, “at which point I’ll have to get another but- oh my god, come  _ on!” _

She released a breathless laugh, nudging her heels against his lower back to try and get the point across, but Loki’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“Oh, do you have a lot of sexual partners?” Loki didn’t mean for his question to sound as terse as it did, and his intent was not to shame her, but why else would she have gotten this  _ contraceptive implant  _ inserted into her arm? The idea of Amelia having been with somebody else  _ recently  _ triggered a sharp proprietorial instinct inside him - he did not wish to share her with anybody.

“Don’t be absurd”, she teased, eyes twinkling as she mimicked what she must have assumed was his favourite phrase, “Did you miss the part where I said  _ it’s been a while?” _ At Loki’s insistent look, she rolled her eyes, “I haven’t had sex with anyone in at least a year-” she smiled knowingly, a mischievous glint in her gaze, “Why, you jealous?”

Loki huffed, his fingers tightening on her hips, “No, I’m not jealous”, he hissed, the possessiveness in his chest dwindling only  _ slightly.  _ He dragged her closer, looming over her once more, continuing from where he left off. Without preamble, he pushed his throbbing cock between her folds and into her, until their hips were pressed together; the hitch of Amelia’s breath was delightful, but the unyielding heat around his length was even better.

“Move, please”, Amelia whispered within precisely zero point two seconds of him sheathing himself fully inside her, and the desperation in her plea made him dizzy with want; he did move, torturing the woman with a few slow, deep plunges that brought involuntary, thirstful noises past his own lips. He was so hard, yearning for release, but he wanted to make good on his promise to satisfy Amelia -  _ and satisfy her, he would. _

A couple more incoherent, begging murmurs from Amelia’s lips kindled the fire in Loki’s veins and he rewarded her with a new, strong rhythm, filling her over and over at a speedy pace, and,  _ oh,  _ her cries of pleasure were so sweet and warm and musical to his ears.

An unwarranted thought trickled through Loki’s mind, that he should feel ashamed of finding gratification in the body of a mortal, but he pushed it quickly away -  _ he wanted this. _ He had already tried banishing the desire from his mind before, but that had not worked - he felt such  _ rapture  _ in this act with Amelia that he could easily forget the original purpose of this carnal deed was to eradicate his unmitigated appetite for her.

He leant forward, changing the angle just slightly, and Amelia lurched, a sharper mewl leaving her lips, indicating his cock had brushed across a particularly sensitive spot within her, and he drove harder, aiming for it with abandon. Amelia’s hands flew to his upper arms and she gripped him tightly, passionately dragging her fingernails across his skin without much care for the prickling tingle Loki felt in response.

Every time he delved into her, Amelia rocked her hips up to meet him, her legs squeezing around him each time he hit the bundle of nerves inside her with pinpoint accuracy.

_ “James”,  _ she howled,  _ “Ah,  _ oh god,  _ James” _ , and Loki crushed his lips to her mouth by way of politely shutting her up, because  _ that was not his name,  _ and it was really starting to bother him that him that she continually,  _ unknowingly,  _ cried out his fake alias in the heat of the moment.  _ If only,  _ he thought, if only his real name could drip so sweetly from her mouth, like warm honey, the way she moaned his pseudonym in such a saccharine tone.

Of course, if she  _ were  _ to even whimper the words  _ ‘Ah, Loki’,  _ it would most certainly set him off far too early at this point.

He continued to drink in her muffled moans for just a little longer, until Amelia pulled away to suck in a breath, and her body seized up, her legs clamping down around his hips rigidly for a couple of seconds, and then she exhaled in a half-scream. Her internal muscles flexed wonderfully around his shaft as he fucked her relentlessly through her second orgasm of the evening.

She felt like velvet around him, and Loki shuddered, his thrusts faltering for a few short moments before he found his rhythm again; he nuzzled her neck adoringly, lapping at the saltiness of her sweat-slicked skin with a few bold nibbles here and there while she writhed below him, trying valiantly to catch her breath while he pounded her so persistently.

Loki gave a breathy laugh, pulling back to admire the wrecked look he had drilled into her; he bent down, still buried inside her, to place a soft kiss to the corner of her parted lips, almost as chastely as she had done to him, before speaking, “Do you think you could handle one more, darling?”

The need for his own release was balancing precariously on the horizon, but he could stave off his own orgasm longer if he truly wanted to -  _ and he did want to _ \- because he needed to feel her fleshy inner walls contract around him at least once more.

A visible tremor took hold of Amelia’s body, “Oh fuck,  _ yesss”,  _ she purred. The aftershocks wracking her body left her unable to keep her legs hooked around his hips, and Loki grabbed them as they fell aside, throwing them over his shoulders instead, practically pinning her in half, and she only had a subsequent three seconds to acknowledge this with a shaky whimper before he was ravishing her again, impaling her at an unsympathetic pace.

Loki moved in her with short, sharp thrusts that caused Amelia to clench around him  _ just right _ and his mouth fell open in a string of breathy, silent moans; the tight, wet heat encasing his cock felt utterly incredible, and the sparks of pleasure left him almost lightheaded. He rued the fact that it had been so long since he’d allowed himself to partake in this sort of pleasure - but between attempting to rule Earth, getting locked in Asgard’s prison and having to deal with his and Thor’s maniacal sister, he  _ really _ just hadn’t had the time.

Not that anyone he could’ve chosen to fuck would have felt as heavenly as Amelia; he nestled within her so  _ perfectly,  _ he was warm and content - nothing had ever felt so  _ right. _

He rasped an unintelligible noise, hands splayed either sides of Amelia’s shoulders to steady himself; the urge to seek release was rising and it was becoming harder and harder to ignore - but he had to - as much as he hungered for the coiling heat within his belly to snap, he had practically boasted the ability to bring Amelia to orgasm one more time. He would not make a fool of himself now.

Amelia trembled, the muscles in her thighs shaking, and everything about her was mesmerising. Her hair was matted to her forehead, her mouth open consistently in a song of pleasure, her half-lidded eyes bleary and glistening; Loki could only surmise it was due to the absence of her glasses that he had not previously noticed how spectacularly long her eyelashes looked as they batted against her cheeks.

Loki swallowed, his throat having gone dry as he panted, and he reached between them with searching fingers, looking to stimulate her clit. He found it, rubbing the little nub with circular motions of his thumb, and Amelia’s cries rose in pitch, her head falling back, shoulders arching.

“Oh,  _ god”,  _ she squeaked, and Loki knew she was close from the way her breath hitched as it had before.

_“Yes,_ come for me, Amelia, _come”,_ he commanded, and she let go one final time.

Loki surrendered to the pleasure as soon as he felt her spasming around him, catching the choked cry in the back of his throat before it could pass his lips, and his face went slack as he grinded into her with a floundering rhythm. He could feel the broiling heat as he shot his load into her, his body tingling all over from the intense climax, and he collapsed beside her, the sound of their wheezing mixing together.

He held her close to his chest until sleep took him.

* * *

 

Loki had never quite experienced the feeling of waking up beside a warm body before. As a Prince of Asgard, he had never enjoyed the thought of sharing his sleeping space with another, and had politely sent his lovers on their way following his sexual escapades. It wasn’t anything to be taken personally, and his bed partners knew what they were in for when he invited them to his quarters - there were not there to cuddle and bask in post-coital bliss, they were there to fuck, and that was it.

The notion of falling asleep beside somebody and revealing such a vulnerable side of himself was not appealing to Loki in the slightest; it was not so easy for him to find trust in others - even in those he handpicked for a one-night stand.

So when Loki awoke that morning with Amelia snoozing quietly in his arms, the overpowering vanilla-like scent of her hair masking the smell of sex from the night before, well, he did not wish for it to end.

Spooned against her back, Loki buried his nose into her hair, nuzzling appreciatively with a sigh that was sure to tickle the back of Amelia’s neck; his arm tightened imperceptibly around her waist as she shifted slightly in her sleep but otherwise did not stir.

Pulling his head from the ridiculously soft pillow, Loki leant up on his elbow, wondering what time it was when he caught sight of the bright sunbeams peering through the window - it had to have been at least late morning for the winter sunshine to appear so warm and vivid. Speaking of vivid, the whirlpool of colours in Amelia’s room seemed all the more obscenely striking with the sun bouncing off of them, and Loki squinted his eyes to avoid being blinded by the teal blue bed sheets.

Amelia was a vision in the morning light. Her face was peaceful and there was a ghost of a smile on her lips; her cheeks were rosy pink and her hair pointed out in all directions - she looked lovely bathed in the golden radiance, and Loki was pleased to find a healthy gleam to her skin that had been absent the previous week.

His eyes fell to her lips, and Loki thought about kissing them - in perhaps the same way she had kissed him so sinlessly the night before; Loki had never had the impulse to kiss his previous lovers  _ after  _ their erotic ventures, had never thought to pay them excess attention before they redressed and left his chambers - he knew there was something special about Amelia, but he couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was just yet.

“Amelia”, Loki called softly, his voice hoarse and guttural, and he brushed away the strands of hair that had fallen haphazardly into her face.

She sighed, breathing a little deeper than before, which implied she was beginning to rouse from her slumber, and Loki pecked her on the lips with the lightest contact he could muster; Amelia blinked her eyes open slowly, the sleepy mist over her pupils lessening to make way for growing coherency as she fought the haze of drowsiness.

The woman smiled as her gaze grew sharper and she rubbed her bleary eyes. “Hey…” her voice was silky and delicate, still somewhat sleep-addled, and Loki smiled in return, that lingering hint of complacency returning from the night before as he discovered how worn out she looked.

“Alright?” Loki asked, not quite ready to fully articulate so soon after waking up.

“Yeah”, Amelia breathed, snuggling against him. Her legs intertwined with his own in a playful manner and her gaze travelled across his face before a spark of amusement twinkled in her eyes.

“What?” Loki enquired, arching an eyebrow curiously.

“Your hair”, Amelia giggled, “It’s gone all wavy”, she observed, reaching up to play with a few jet black strands, and Loki gave a soft huff. “I like it”, Amelia clarified, playing with one of his ringlets, “It’s cute.”

Loki rolled his eyes at her choice of praise but secretly found himself delighted with the compliment; so she liked his hair wavy,  _ duly noted.  _ Perhaps next time he would refrain from straightening it with magic like he usually did, just to hear Amelia express her admiration for it again. Loki wasn’t sure why he felt the desire to please her as such - he really wasn’t the type to purposefully veer from his norm in order to adhere to another’s tastes.

“I take it you enjoyed last night?” Loki asked after a few content, quiet moments.

Amelia grinned, reaching to trace circles on his collarbone, “Oh yes. It was exceedingly wonderful getting you out of that damn suit.”

“Oh, is that what brought you the most pleasure?” Loki mumbled sarcastically, though he couldn’t keep the chuckle out of his voice.

“For sure”, Amelia sighed happily, cheerful to tease him as they basked in each other’s body warmth.

Silence fell, and for a while, Loki let his mind drift into blissful nothingness, feeling more mollified and soothed than he could ever remember feeling, listening simply to the sound of Amelia’s steady breathing and the sensation of her heart beating below his hand where it rested on her chest.

“James”, Amelia asked after a while, breaking the peace, and there was a waver in her voice that made her sound a little apprehensive; Loki opened his eyes, not realising he’d closed them.

“Mm?”

“You’re pretty athletic, right?” She enquired, and Loki rose an eyebrow, a smirk forming on his lips.

“Hm, what gave you that idea?” he asked facetiously and Amelia batted him lightly against the arm, a peppering of red rising to her cheeks as her thoughts clearly went to his muscular chest.

“Do you like… jumping and climbing?” It was a vague question, and Loki frowned, trying to decipher if there was any hidden implication in her words or if there was a point to what she was asking.

“What are you  _ talking _ about?” Loki deadpanned, eyebrows furrowed, and Amelia rolled her eyes.

“Oh my god, okay, so there’s this place I used to go to like once a week - haven’t been there in years but I think it’s still run by the same woman. It’s like… a trampoline park… except there’s more stuff to do.” Amelia paused and let out an exasperated sigh at the blank look on Loki’s face, “It’s a padded room, there’s trampolines, there’s stuff to climb on- it’s  _ fun. _ ”

Loki eyed her for a moment, “Are you asking me to accompany you there?”

“Yes!” Amelia squeaked, a bright smile on her face, “It’s no fun going alone, and I feel like you’d enjoy it!”

A thoughtful look passed over Loki’s face and he hummed softly, “Would it just be us there?”

“Well, no, there’d probably be a small group of people”, Amelia explained, the slight crease in her forehead deepening, and Loki sighed. She seemed so hopeful and he really wished his refusal wouldn’t spoil the mood.

“Then no”, he told her flat out, and Amelia visibly deflated.

“Maybe I could… contact the owner and try and work something out? So that it could be just us?” She tried again, strained optimism seeping into her words, and Loki shook his head with a smile, face softening slightly.

Jumping and climbing around didn’t sound excessively boring, but it didn’t exactly sound like the most fun he could have; there were definitely other things he’d rather do with Amelia that required just as much exertion, but he supposed if she could ensure their seclusion and enforce the possibility that he wouldn’t be accidentally recognised by some other mortals, then it wouldn't do much harm. Besides, it would make Amelia happy.

“Alright, fine”, he capitulated, “but only  _ if _ it’s just us.”

The way Amelia lit back up left him wonderfully dazed and she quickly curled her fingers through his hair and brought their lips together in another flawless, demure kiss - a kiss he couldn’t help but smile into.

_ Knock, knock, knock, knock. _

The two were rudely interrupted by four forceful wraps on the door, and Amelia pulled back, a look of disgruntlement overcoming her immediately.

_ “Fuck”,  _ she whispered, and let out a groan of aggravation.

Loki frowned, “Were you expecting someone?” Amelia shook her head, rubbing the bridge of her nose, “Then who is it?”

“I’ll give you three guesses”, Amelia grumbled, moving to pull away from Loki.

Loki figured such a reaction could only be invoked by someone Amelia disliked and unfortunately had to see a lot of the time -  _ Ethan.  _ Her prowling neighbour who couldn’t seem to understand the notion that Amelia just wanted him to leave her alone.

“Just leave it”, Loki spoke, his arms securing more tightly around Amelia, pulling her back to lie flush against him, “He’ll go away.”

“No”, Amelia groaned, “He  _ won’t _ go away. He’ll just keep knocking.”

Loki reluctantly released the woman as another unnecessarily heavy stream of knocks reverberated throughout the apartment, displeasure seizing his body from the fact Amelia was being drawn away from him. He had hoped to become better acquainted with her body, but it seemed Amelia’s neighbour was intent on ruining his perfect morning.

Amelia scrambled up, stumbling slightly from the exhaustion of the night before, and wrapped herself in the flimsy, pink robe that hung on a hook beside the door - a robe that, to Loki’s simultaneous dismay and content, barely covered her body; content that he could gaze across her lovely legs and collarbone, and dismay that Ethan too would be gifted with such a sight.

He heard one more set of ferocious knocks before Amelia disappeared down the hall and opened up the front door; Loki sighed silently and listened keenly for the conversation that followed.

_ “Hey  _ Amelia, you look well-” Loki seethed at the flirtatious drawl in Ethan’s words, “-I was just wondering if you were gonna take me up on that coffee I offered to buy you?”

“Um, ah, well, I’m afraid I’m kinda busy today, Ethan…” Amelia sounded far from thrilled, and Loki yearned to see the dejected look on her neighbour’s face.

Instead, Ethan’s unpleasant voice persisted, “Are you sure? Cause, I  _ did _ carry those heavy cabinets for you, y’know-” Loki clenched his fist at the man’s gross perseverance, “-It would only be fair that you accept my offer…”

_ That entitled son of a bitch,  _ Loki thought, and shuffled out of the bed, reaching immediately for his suit trousers to pull them up his legs - he’d make sure that bastard stopped bothering Amelia, and he’d make a show out of it.

Foregoing his shirt, Loki stalked out of Amelia’s room, following the noise of Amelia stammering to try and get rid of the man; his green eyes narrowed in on the sleazy man leaning against the doorway - which made it impossible for Amelia to close the door without slamming it on his face. She was far too polite to do that, but Loki was not above causing the man physically pain to get him to clear out.

Loki gave a toothy smirk as Ethan’s eyes flickered to him, and he strutted up behind Amelia, quickly swinging an arm around her waist to pull her possessively towards him. Amelia let out a squeak of surprise, immediately going pink in the face, and Loki delighted in the way Ethan’s gaze took in his superior form, a hint of comprehension finally dawning in his otherwise clueless expression.

“I don’t think she’s interested”, Loki remarked, hiding his aggression well as he loomed intimidatingly at his full height, glaring down the man with a boundless stare.

He saw Ethan visibly gulp and nod slowly, before the man’s gaze drifted back to Amelia, his leering look having ceased.

“Oh, well… if you change your mind, y’know… just let me know…” he backed out into the hallway, swinging around to enter his own apartment in a hurry, and Loki flung the door shut as a low chuckle escaped his throat.

Amelia leaned against him, pressing her cheek to his bare chest, enveloping her arms around him appreciatively, “Thanks”, she murmured, “Maybe he finally got the message.”

Loki smiled, “If you have any more issues with him, let me know. I  _ will  _ sort him out.”

She laughed, “Oh, I bet you will.”

His lips lightly brushed her forehead as they stood together in silence for a few tranquil moments, before Loki pulled back. The thought of the Avengers searching aimlessly for him intruded into his mind and he sighed, figuring he should probably return to the Tower before Stark became too suspicious of his absence.

“I should go”, Loki stated, unenthused, “My brother is likely wondering where I am.”

Amelia licked her lips, a sad smile on her face, “But I’ll see you again on Monday, right?”

“Of course”, Loki promised, an added lilt of suggestion to his voice as he continued to say, “I’m sure we’ll find more fun activities to partake in, too.” The glow of Amelia’s blushing cheeks was all too sublime, he couldn’t help teasing it out of her.

He redressed soon after and left the apartment with a kiss goodbye, making his way to the elevator like usual; his phone pinged in his pocket and he pulled it out, expecting to see a dubious, nosy text from Stark enquiring as to his whereabouts, but instead it was from Amelia.

_ ‘Miss you already’,  _ it read, accompanied by a evocative little winking face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know if I did okay <3 I must admit, I'm not as confident in writing sexy stuff as I am writing everything else, so it would be extremely great if you could leave me a comment about whether it was good/what I could improve!


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alright, Loki thought with a smirk, If that’s how you want to play.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little funny/fluffy short chapter, but there's gonna be another chapter later this week hopefully!

_ “Don’t say a word.” _

Upon leaving Amelia’s apartment, Loki had pulled up the hood of his coat to shield his face from the hustle and bustle of Manhattan’s late Saturday morning buzz, wisping through the back alleys that were mostly deserted at that time of day -  _ everybody was too busy converging in the open streets to notice the slim, dark figure skulking around darker areas _ \- until he found himself approaching the Avengers Tower. 

Loki had felt ridiculously content ever since waking up, as though his worries and troubles had escaped him for just a few short, blissful hours, and he would have been lying to himself if he’d denied that his lips were curling upwards at the corners just at the mere thought of what he and Amelia had shared the night before.

The anticipated gratification flooding his veins left him fulfilled and delighted, an amalgamate of emotions he didn’t recall the last time he’d experienced, and he walked into the Tower with a strut in his step, radiating exuberance that was simply so unlike him…

So he really couldn’t have been surprised when Thor’s jaw fell at the sight of him so inconceivably  _ happy. _

“Brother-”

_ “Do not say a word, Thor.” _

The somewhat delirious threads of joviality were snatched away in an instant and a scowl took its place, pinning Thor with a look that dared him to comment on Loki’s unusually high spirits. That intolerable blue gaze travelled across Loki’s glowing cheeks, over his wavy, unstraightened hair, and his erroneously rumpled suit, and realisation pinged in Thor’s face, leaving Loki to pray for the ground to open up and swallow him whole where he stood.

“You and Amelia-”

“If you don’t want to lose your other eye, I suggest you stop right there”, Loki warned, the undisguised threat very plain in his words that even his oaf of a brother could interpret the unbridled rage at what Thor was about to infer.

Thor smiled; clearly he did not have to push for a confirmation. The defensiveness of Loki’s tone was transparent enough to affirm his suspicions - Thor knew exactly what Loki had gotten up to with Amelia last night, and he could tell just from a glance.  _ When had Thor developed such a keen sense to extrapolate from observation, anyway? Perhaps it had been some point between Loki faking his own death to subsequently become King of Asgard under the guise of Odin, and the resurgence of Hela.  _ Loki couldn’t be sure.

“I can’t believe you finally got laid, brother!” Thor exclaimed, hands raised as if it was a joyous occasion, and all too quickly did a burst of outrage bubble up in Loki’s chest.

“F-finally?  _ Finally?”  _ Loki echoed with fuming incredulity, and miraculously he couldn’t tell whether Thor was purposely jesting or if he actually believed Loki had been a virgin up until last night - regardless, Loki vibrated with indignation, “You absolute  _ fool!  _ Are you truly so disconnected from reality that you think I’ve never-” he cut himself off as Thor roared with laughter, and it transpired that the oaf had clearly been joking.

“I despise you”, Loki hissed.

“I’m happy for you, brother! Truly, I am!” Thor continued to guffaw, and Loki readied his wrist to summon a sharp dagger, to which Thor held up his hands in yielding. “Leave it for the training room, Loki!” 

Loki seethed, but lowered his hand, pushing past his brother with a vicious shove as he searched his mind for all the many ways he could mortify Thor with his next ingenious, mischief-filled prank. 

The God of Mischief halted before entering the elevator that led to the floor his room was on, and turned to glare at Thor over his shoulder, “If you breathe a word of this to anyone, I will gouge your other eye out and shove it down your throat.”

Thor shrugged, an annoyingly puffed up smile on his face, believing Loki’s words to be an empty threat, “Whatever you say, brother.”

* * *

Loki returned to Amelia’s apartment a few times throughout the following week, endeavouring to be more subtle upon returning to the Avengers Tower the morning after - he’d been lucky that Stark or Banner hadn’t caught him returning the first time because he’d never have heard the end of it; at least Thor was considerate enough not to march straight up to Tony Stark and reveal what Loki had been doing out all night - and despite Loki’s great sexual satisfaction, there was one plaguing thought that nagged him to no end.

He had meant only to bed Amelia just the once, to sate his desire and have it be over with, but he’d discovered with dismay that the more times he shared her bed, the more he longed for another night between the woman’s legs.

It was unheard of for Loki. He  _ rarely  _ had chosen the same lover twice in his younger years, opting for the enjoyment of not knowing what to expect with his various conquests - for instance, would they aim to take control or allow Loki to lead? Would they be loud or quiet? Confident or shy? Not knowing these things made the anticipation all the more exciting.

But after just a few sexual encounters, he  _ knew _ Amelia. He knew she was coy but confident, teasing and vocal - he knew what she liked and what she didn’t like. He had every curve of her body committed to memory.

And still, he wanted more.

He wanted Amelia to be his, and only his. The thought of anybody else having her left a sour taste in his mouth. Only he could look upon her face in the throes of pleasure, only he could touch her with such unreserved intimacy,  _ only he could taste her sweet lips and hear the involuntary, melodic cries as they left her mouth. _

Only him.

It was Wednesday when Loki received Amelia’s excitable text revealing that she had successfully booked an exclusive, private session at the ‘trampoline park’ with the owner’s permission, and that his standard black suit would not do the trick for this excursion.

_ You need to wear something comfortable and flexible. You can’t wear a suit to a trampoline park, James,  _ she wrote, and Loki grinded his teeth together at the thought of dressing like a sleazy peasant,  _ ugh, _ like Ethan - with his slack jeans and loose-fitting shirt. He hated to be seen in such deplorable clothing. He was a prince. He was supposed to wear only the finest fabrics and emanate a sense of regality - how could he do that in such…  _ common  _ clothing?

Nevertheless, he informed Amelia that he would wear something more appropriate for an evening of physical exertion, and proceeded to whip out his phone and search for images of what Midgardian sport attire looked like. A lot of the returned results just looked utterly ridiculous - things he would never imagine himself wearing, and especially not in front of Amelia. He settled on a simple look - black sweatpants, dark green top, and with much reluctance,  _ sneakers.  _

Although the shoes were comfortable around his feet, they just looked  _ awful  _ and were a far cry from his usual sleek, black boots.

The look was easy to replicate with a touch of magic, but he did not dare change until after he had left the Avengers Tower and was a good few blocks away - out of sight of his brother’s or Stark’s curious scrutiny. 

When he met Amelia at her apartment, the woman urged him to take off his coat and reveal his chosen outfit, eager to see him adorned in something other than his pristine black suit for once.

“Ohh”, Amelia squeaked, pressing her hands against her cheeks as she looked down at his clothes that appeared wholly unpolished and lacking in refinement, “You look lovely”, she chirped, and Loki rose an eyebrow at her reaction.

“I look like a vagrant”, he grumbled, pulling at the collar of his shirt with distaste.

“You do not!” Amelia laughed, shaking her head, and she reached out gingerly to pinch the fabric of his top between her fingers, testing the softness of the material, “I like the green, it brings out your eyes.” She smiled, a starry gleam in her appreciative glance, and Loki smiled.

He didn’t know why, but Amelia’s words seemed as chaste as their first kiss and brought warmth to his chest like never before; he breathed a sigh to dispel the atypical sensation and took a step forward, leaning down to kiss Amelia with the promise of how the evening would culminate.

Her glossy lips retained a distinct taste of strawberry, and Loki savoured it.

* * *

 

Loki did not know what he’d expected when he’d heard the name of this ‘trampoline park’,  _ Extreme Air,  _ but it certainly wasn’t this. He wasn’t even entirely sure what a trampoline was, Amelia had neglected to explain that - probably because it was something completely simple that every Midgardian knew, but one thing quickly became clear to Loki: they certainly hadn’t had  _ trampolines  _ on Asgard.

The room he’d been greeted with was large and brightly coloured - so much so that it almost hurt to look at, but he supposed it helped that he’d grown accustomed to the vibrant hues of Amelia’s dwelling - this place was just an eyesore, though.

The expanse of the room was divided into different sections - some parts of the floor were padded, some parts were hard, and other parts Loki wasn’t quite sure about. There were different levels of ground, netted areas and a large pit filled with multi-coloured cubes, and not to mention, a metal frame that he supposed was part of the climbing aspect Amelia had mentioned.

“Looks cool, huh?” Amelia’s voice had a slight echo to it throughout the wide space and she casually pulled off his coat, taking it towards the benches behind them where she could hang it on one of the many hooks protruding from the wall.

“It’s different”, Loki supplied, his eyes darting around the place, taking in all the different surfaces as he tried to deduce what certain areas were used for.

He took a step forward onto the blue, padded ground, and then took another step onto the inconspicuous, black floor - and promptly lost balance as the floor slumped under his foot; he stumbled onto the springy mat, arms up to counterbalance himself, and then quickly glanced back over his shoulder to find that Amelia wasn’t looking his way -  _ thankfully  _ \- because he hated being caught off guard. Especially by  _ flooring. _

_ What kind of joke is this? _

Loki eyed the tensile surface which was pulled taut beneath the blue padding, and surmised that this must’ve been a ‘trampoline’.

_ Why would humans create a surface designed to throw off an unsuspecting person’s balance? _

In all honesty, Loki figured it would be a perfectly funny prank if it were executed on someone other than himself, and he decided that it was something he must try some time, probably on Thor - the thought made him smirk -  _ yes,  _ he would catch his brother unawares by transmuting the ground beneath his very feet into something akin to the consistency of a trampoline. It would be quite amusing to watch his brother fall flat on his face.

“You’re not supposed to wear shoes on the trampoline”, Amelia playfully rebuked as she approached him, “Come on, take ‘em off. The owner, Suzy, trusts that we won’t make a mess of the place.”

Loki rolled his eyes, but did as Amelia requested, removing his shoes to be placed next to hers, and then he turned at the sound of creaking to find Amelia jumping up and down on the elastic flooring. For a while he just watched her, closely following her movements, eyes darting up, down, up, down, before he smirked, his gaze drifting reflexively to her chest, and he lamented the fact that she hadn’t chosen to wear her figure-hugging blouse again - instead, she wore a loose top that was tucked into her jeans, concealing most of the motion of her bouncing breasts.

Still, that didn’t stop him from staring.

“Hey!” Amelia cried when she caught on to his blatant leering, quickly covering her chest with her arms, “Cut that out! We’re here to have fun so quit staring at my chest, okay?”

Loki gave her a licentious smile, biting his lip for good measure, “I know a certain type of fun that could  _ occur _ as a result of me staring at your chest.” He stepped towards her, his eyebrows raised suggestively.

Amelia’s cheeks flushed immediately and she cleared her throat, “As I said, the owner trusts us not to make a  _ mess”,  _ she reiterated with an expectant look, holding steady eye contact as Loki closed in, the provocative spark in his eyes not fading.

With a smooth prowl that would put a wild cat to shame, Loki stepped onto the trampoline - this time prepared for it to stretch under his weight - and loomed before Amelia, leaning down till they were nose to nose.

_ “I would have you right here, Amelia”, _ Loki said, his voice sultry and sensual, and he watched as Amelia’s eyes widened, her pupils dilating, and he grinned victoriously, his hands snaking down her sides to tug pruriently at her shirt.

Amelia grabbed his wrists and ceased his effort to remove her top, her face suddenly stern, “I will not be  _ had _ in a trampoline park, thank you very much.” Loki frowned, retracting his hands, disappointment burgeoning at being rejected, until the woman smiled with amusement and spoke again, “But later,  _ darling,  _ if you can catch me. _ ” _

With that, she pivoted on her toes and began bouncing away from trampoline to trampoline, a cascade of giggles erupting from her as she went.

_ Alright,  _ Loki thought with a smirk,  _ If that’s how you want to play. _

Loki crossed the padded foundations, electing to avoid the trampolines for the moment as they worked only to slow him down; when Amelia looked back over her shoulder and realised he was actually following her, she let out a shriek and doubled her efforts to escape him, making it to the opposite side of the room where she hauled herself onto an upper level and proceeded to climb the blocks of solid flooring to one of the metal frames situated above the cube pit.

“Can’t catch me”, Amelia taunted, grabbing hold of the hanging bars and began to make her way across, over the pit, towards the opposing platform. She hung precariously, roughly three and a half metres off the ground and swung without dexterity, looking as though she could plummet into the cubes at any time.

Loki huffed in amusement, turning to the platform she was attempting to manoeuvre towards; there were steps across the other side of the room that led to a raised stage attached to it, but it would be far quicker - and more  _ his style _ \- for him to simply climb the wall. It didn’t seem like a possible operation for a Midgardian to perform, but with a running start, he scaled it with ease, gripping the edge to pull himself up.

“What the fuck?” Amelia snapped, and halted, dangling perilously now that her destination was compromised, “How the hell did you do that? That wall is like thirteen feet tall!”

“Impressed by my natural skill?” Loki enquired, suave and cool-headed, a knowing smile on his lips.

“Pfft! More like freaked out!” Amelia shot back, though there was laughter in her eyes; she tensed with minor discomfort as she adjusted her grip around the metal bar above her.

“You alright?” Loki asked, eyeing her slowly slipping hands; his eyes darted to the pit of cubes below - surely it would be quite painful to fall onto the sharp-edged cuboids.

“Yeah, just hanging out”, Amelia responded, a cheesy smile on her face - she didn’t seem overly concerned about the prospect of falling into the brick-filled ditch, even as she tried to stabilise her grip again, her legs flailing beneath her. As a precaution, Loki decided to join her, but rather than hanging from the metal frame, he pulled himself up and stood atop it, stepping from bar to bar with impeccable footing.

Once again, Amelia seemed amazed by this, eyes adorably wide as she watched him approach until he was standing on the bar she hung from, a smooth smile on his face. He leant down to grab her by the wrist, but she quickly released the bar and plunged downwards.

“Amelia!” For a split-second, his heart thumped wildly in his chest, but then the cubes - much like the trampoline - gave under her weight and she sunk into them without a scratch. A relieved sigh escaped Loki, and he rolled his eyes as she tittered in the sea of soft blocks - of course, obviously he should have assumed they’d be made of pliant material; humans were ridiculously fragile - they could easily perish as a result of a fall from this height if they landed incorrectly, it was silly of him to have thought the pit would be filled with sharp, solid objects.

“You still haven’t caught me!” Amelia called, her face scrunched up as she beamed, and Loki could practically feel the happiness radiating from her; it was staggering to think that just a few weeks ago she had been near inconsolable, and here she was now - resplendent and euphoric.

As Amelia scrambled through the foamy cubes, Loki dropped down and landed among them, fighting the resistance of the squishy objects to make it to the edge of the pit where Amelia was trying to heave herself out.

The struggle to navigate through the pit, combined with the effort she had exerted while holding onto the metal bars, had left her slightly breathless, a faint sheen of sweat speckled across her forehead, while her cheeks were pleasantly pink - she looked rather delicious like this. Loki seized her ankle and she let out a squeak as he dragged her back into the pit and curled around her, holding her hostage in his arms.

“Got you”, he breathed into her ear, nuzzling his nose into her hair as she squirmed in his grasp; his arm snaked around her waist and he tickled her lightly, delighting as she laughed and wriggled to try and free herself, “You’re mine”, he told her, and Amelia looked up at him with what looked like adoration as she bit her lip gingerly.

“Oh, James”, she sighed happily, her mouth opened and her lips wavered, a few words stuck on the tip of her tongue before she swallowed and cleared her throat, “Thank you for joining me here.”

Loki observed the bashful tinge in her expression before leaning down to press a kiss to her lips; he clung to her tightly and refused to let her go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And just cause I wanna keep you guys on your toes, that big reveal of Loki's identity is coming up soon ;) I'm excited for it, ARE YOU??? :D


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Amelia”, Loki spoke after his extended silence, “do you believe that people who have done terrible things have the potential to change?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS. THIS CHAPTER.
> 
> You're gonna kill me at the end of it.
> 
>  
> 
> Also, anyone really freakin' terrified at the new Infinity War trailer? https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QwievZ1Tx-8 Because I am. I am terrified. I am so sad and scared for Loki.

 

One hundred days.

He’d met her one hundred days ago in the unimposing, early hours of a Monday morning, the night air crisp with a biting cold breeze that had deterred most humans from taking an impromptu stroll through a dark graveyard - but not Amelia.

It had taken Loki one hundred days to realise that his feelings for the woman were not purely physical; the epiphany had reached him a week and a half after they had pranced about the trampoline park like a couple of excitable children, the crystal clear thought highlighting just how much he enjoyed spending time with her.

He felt a fool, really, for not having realised sooner where his relationship with Amelia had been headed; how quickly they had gone from strangers to acquaintances, to friends, to sexual partners,  _ to more. _ It was as though everything had been working towards this moment while he remained oblivious, out of touch with the reality so clear before him.

Loki hadn’t really acknowledged these blossoming emotions until they had been lying together one evening, draped in each other’s arms, drifting through the joy of post-coital bliss, and Amelia had whispered sleepily in his ear,  _ “You are wonderful, James.” _

He had flinched.

It wasn’t her honeyed compliment that caused the reaction, it was how amorously she had spoken the name. 

_ James. _

It was the first time his body had given such a corporeal response of disdain at being referred to by the name that was not his own - he’d played it off as a shiver at her words, hoping Amelia had not picked up on the troubled knit of his eyebrows or how the tranquil relaxation had melted away from his muscles and made way for uncomfortable tautness.

It had always bothered him to be called  _ James,  _ but this was the first time his body had betrayed the fact; he quickly found that from that point onwards, the more she spoke that name, the more he came to despise it with unwavering hatred, and he could not control the way he twitched with displeasure every time it left Amelia’s mouth, no matter how much he tried to restrain it.

If Amelia noticed, she did not bring it up.

* * *

_ “Let’s go to the movies, James.” _

Loki’s jaw had clenched, fingers flexing briefly as he fought off the distaste for his pseudonym; he had been reluctant to join her at the so-called ‘cinema’ at first, naturally, because  _ people  _ were about. But he discerned all too quickly that Amelia’s smile was relentless and left him weak at the knees - he could not say no to that face.

Besides, Amelia had promised that a screening so late on a weekday would not play host to so many people, and once they entered the large theatre, sitting down in the back row, Loki was content to find that the room was dim enough to conceal his appearance from curious eyes, so he lowered the hood of his coat and inwardly commended the Midgardian ingenuity of gigantic television screens and intense, surround-sound speakers.

The film was a mesh of fast movements, explosions and dramatically delivered lines, something that the theatrical part of Loki’s mind might have enjoyed had his thoughts not been altogether focused on the woman by his side; he caught himself staring at her out of his peripheral vision several times, admiring the excitement on her face as she watched the large screen ahead, and Loki noticed with delight that even in the wide room filled with the scent of buttery popcorn, he could still smell the underlying traces of vanilla rising from Amelia.

* * *

_ “James, let’s walk through the park.” _

He’d looked away from her to hide the scorn, and followed her closely as she led the way to Central Park. Amelia walked idly, her gaze shifting across the surrounding trees and the brush that fought to survive in the cold weather. The branches were bare and the plant life around them was dead and wilted, brown twigs climbing from the ground in odd shapes, and yet, the view Loki was greeted with was no less beautiful.

“Gapstow Bridge”, Amelia spoke as they sat themselves down on a lonely bench beside the small lake, looking ahead at the little arched overpass, “I like it better in the Summer, when all the flowers have bloomed and the trees are green”, she told him.

Loki liked it as it was. The picturesque backdrop of the huge city buildings beyond the bridge shone with nightlife, each little window occupied with lights at the late hour, and the reflections of yellows and whites and oranges mirrored back in the lake water, making for a gorgeous vision. The sky was dark blue, not a cloud in sight, and despite the distant noises of traffic, everything seemed peaceful right then and there.

“This lake would be surrounded by flowers in the Summertime”, Amelia spoke, pointing around the edges of the bank, “daisies, daffodils, tulips, and lilies”, she relayed, “bright orange lilies with little red specks.”

Loki turned to face her, expecting to see that crazed passion that often developed whenever she talked about flowers, but instead she wore a look of sad yearning, because there was something about lilies that just seemed to set Amelia off - triggering supposedly harrowing memories, perhaps.

She had said that,  _ to her,  _ lilies symbolised remorse, and from that Loki inferred the reasons she placed lilies upon the grave of her brother - she was sorry that he died, that was clear enough - but Amelia seemed so professional and obsessed with her flowers and their meanings that it seemed odd she would project her own connotations upon them.

Amelia, with her infrequent bouts of impressive perception, saw the questioning look on his face, and appeared to know exactly what he was thinking; she smiled sadly with that far off look in her eyes, the look that suggested she was about to tell of a story from her youth.

“I was pretty young, probably about four or five years old. I think Aaron and I had been playing outside - there was this little wooded area near our home that we liked to play hide’n’seek in, and, ah, Aaron tripped me up -  _ totally by accident _ \- and I grazed my hand. It was hardly a scrape but I started crying, and Aaron started fussing”, she paused to chuckle softly, a dash of genuine amusement arising at the recollection, “He kept saying  _ don’t tell mum, don’t tell mum,  _ because he didn’t wanna get in trouble, then he plucked up the first flower he saw, which just happened to be a lily, because he knew flowers always cheered me up. He wouldn’t stop saying sorry, heh… it just kind of became a thing.”

It was oddly enlightening, and he suddenly understood, with clarity, the pain of her loss; it was quite astonishing - up until now, Loki had always acknowledged this sharp disconnect between himself as an Asgardian -  _ a God  _ \- and these lowly Midgardians, mere insects in the grand scheme of things. But the more he learnt about Amelia, her brother, her childhood and her parents, the more he came to realise that they weren’t so different.

Amelia had played with her brother in much the same ways that Loki and Thor had played together as children. Aaron had tripped his sister up by accident and quickly, panickingly, rushed to resolve it, and Loki had once pushed Thor down a short ridge by accident,  _ well, ‘accident’,  _ and when it had become apparent that Thor had actually gotten hurt and begun to wail, Loki had grown alarmed, climbing down after his brother to hurriedly exclaim ‘ _ It’s fine! You’re fine! It was an accident! Don’t tell father!’ _

Thor was the only living person left that truly cared about him - the only one who knew of his troubling past, but continued to act as an attentive older brother, showing benevolence even when Loki did not deserve it. Thor could have cast him out after the destruction of Asgard, could have finally punished him for all the shit he had stirred up, but instead Thor invited him back to Earth and convinced the Avengers to give him time to redeem himself.

If he lost Thor, Loki would be truly,  _ truly  _ alone. He would have Amelia, but it would be under a pretense as long as she remained unaware of his true identity. For the first time, Loki  _ empathised _ with the pain of her loss.

“Amelia”, Loki spoke after his extended silence, and the woman turned her full attention to him at his unsettled tone of voice, “Do you believe that people who have done terrible things have the potential to change?”

She seemed surprised by the question, tilting her head as her eyes darted across his face, and hummed, “Mm, yeah, I think so.”

Loki frowned, unsatisfied by the laconic answer, “You think a person who has done evil things can attain forgiveness?”

Amelia smiled softly, “If they show remorse over their actions, then yes, absolutely. People are not born evil”, she responded with conviction, “There are many elements that can drive a person to do bad things, y’know… someone who has been raised without love may lack empathy, and they’ll do horrible things because they have not been shown why it is wrong.” She licked her lips, “If somebody does something harmful to others, but later regrets it, and  _ knows  _ that they did wrong, then I think they deserve a second chance, if they strive to put in an effort to earn that forgiveness.”

Loki swallowed, gaze falling to his gloved hands in his lap; he fiddled with his fingers, pinching the leather distractedly as his expression twisted with uncertainty - he did not believe that evil deeds could be so easily retracted.

“What about your father?” he finally asked, “Does he deserve forgiveness for the years he tormented you?” He meant for the answer to catch Amelia, to have her admit that there were exceptions to the response she had given, but instead Amelia sighed, nodding ruefully.

“When my father approached me after Aaron’s funeral and I thought he was going to apologise to me, I was ready to forgive him”, Amelia admitted, “Maybe I was just desperate and lost, knowing I had no one else left after the two family members I loved had both died, but I had thought… if there was any chance my father felt remorse for everything he had done to me, I would forgive him”, sorrow filled her eyes, “But as you know, that’s not what happened. I would happily have given him a second chance, but he threw it in my face. No third chances.”

Loki shook his head gently. He had trouble relating to Amelia’s willingness to forgive; he could not imagine so easily forgiving his father for treating him as inferior to Thor. 

He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose with frustration.

“Why did you bring this up?” Amelia enquired delicately, cocking her head thoughtfully, “Have you… done something bad before?”

Loki tried not to let his body betray how tense he was, keeping his eyes on his fidgeting fingers, but he did not answer her.

“Because if you have”, Amelia told him with surprising tactfulness as she laid a hand on his knee, “I would rather you let me know than keep it a secret from me.” Loki was almost shocked to find that her tone was reassuring, her gentle smile encouraging, gently pressing him to reveal his  _ terribly dark secret  _ with the implication that she would forgive him if he sought out her forgiveness.

Loki swallowed, his eyes falling to the hand resting on his leg. She was unknowingly offering him a chance to come clean, to perhaps start anew without the deception hanging over their relationship.

But Loki knew, despite her promising words, that regardless of Amelia’s readiness to forgive,  _ he did not deserve her forgiveness.  _ He had done things that could not be reversed with just a few whispered apologies - he had caused the deaths of many and it was not Amelia’s place to forgive him on their behalf.

“No”, Loki lied, “I haven’t done anything, I was just… curious.”

Amelia’s hand lingered on his leg as she looked between his eyes searchingly, and Loki feared for a moment that she had seen through his fabrication, despite being the God of Lies - but she nodded her head and offered him a small smile.

“Okay”, she said, “That’s fine then.”

* * *

_ “Can we head to the pier, James?” _

Loki rubbed the irritable itch on the back of his neck that crawled up once again at the sound of that accursed name; it had become harder and harder to hide his aversion from Amelia every time she spoke it so placidly in that wonderfully soft voice of hers. He longed to hear his own name flow from her lips just as melodically.

She had noticed his odd behaviour, that much was clear, even going as far as to ask if he was feeling well; Loki had brushed off her concern, telling her it was nothing, but the curious look in her eyes had persisted, and he’d kissed her vehemently to make her forget his troubled demeanour.

They walked beside the large river, trailing their way to the pier at a leisurely pace; the blue-tinged illumination of the moon above reflected gorgeously in the waterway, and it seemed that whenever Loki was with Amelia, he could find beauty in everything. He would not have yielded such admiration for his surroundings while travelling alone through the streets of Manhattan, but with Amelia by his side, he just seemed to  _ notice  _ things - things he would otherwise overlook.

It was quiet, only the occasional passing car broke the silence, but even then it was drowned out by the serenity of the moment.

They slowed to a stop and leant against the guardrail, eyes down on the rushing currents of the channel; they had not spoken for a while, used to sharing company without the constant pressure to keep a conversation rolling, and it usually brought contentment to Loki’s mind - but now, he was thinking, his agitated thoughts rushing akin to the cascading water below, and somewhere in his mind he wished for Amelia to say something and break the tension inside him.

Loki was trapped in a reluctant state of pondering the meaning behind his  _ feelings  _ \- something he was always disinclined to dwell on - and amongst his racing mind, one nagging thought stood out.

_ You should not have gotten close. _

He’d realised now, just how much of an effect this human woman had on him - every tiny thing she did, often without even intending it, made him adore her just a little more, made him weak at the knees like an absolute fool. Her smile, her voice, her kindness, her warmth, the way she peered up at him through her sweet, brown eyes - it all worked its way inside his mind, seeping in through his skin, leaving feather-light tingles as it burrowed through his very being, and it made him want her in ways he’d never wanted another. There was no carnality to this desire, no hungry lust for her body, just the simple need to be close to her, to hold her, listen to her, and smell her light vanilla scent at any chance he could.

He did not know how he had succumbed to the charms of a Midgardian woman, just as his brother had, but it made him worry.

Human life was frail. Amelia’s lifespan was one tiny blip in his long existence, and the thought of being without her brought him pain that he could not explain. It was as though she had become a physical part of him, and eventually time itself would tear her from him and leave him shattered and not whole.

He’d remain the same, unchanging in appearance while Amelia would grow old and feeble, and in the worst case scenario, she could simply forget about him before death took her, and the notion tore him up.

_ He shouldn’t have gotten close. _

Loki would live thousands of years after Amelia was to perish, and he could only anticipate the loneliness that would resume, the ebbing loss that would infect his already damaged heart - he did not want to  _ feel _ those things. Not again. Not after what happened to his mother.

It felt as though he would never grow accustomed to the fact that his mother was no longer alive, how long would it take him to get over Amelia’s death?

_ Sentiment.  _ Why did he have to go and invite these emotions into his mind?

Loki felt Amelia’s hand take his, and he snapped back to reality; he could feel the touch reaching through his leather glove and squeezed her hand tightly in return. Her hands must’ve been cold, for she had no gloves of her own. So he released her hand and removed his gloves, enclosing her palm within the toasty warmth of his own hands.

He remembered the first time she had offered him this contact - perhaps the first time he had felt the spark of appreciation that had led to everything between them, and he squeezed her fingers, making sure no part of her hand was exposed to the cold, biting temperature of the night.

Amelia smiled when her hand begun to absorb the heat he offered her, like a sublime deity of warmth and comfort, he raised her knuckles to his lips and brushed a kiss across them.

He did not want to ever be forced to watch her become weary and fragile. Growing fond of mortals whose lives barely lasted ninety years was a painstaking  _ curse  _ for a God, and Loki did not see a solution to his dilemma. 

_ Push her away?  _ His mind suggested, and he disposed of the idea at once - he could not do that to her,  _ he couldn’t. _

_ Indulge, make use with the time you have and the hand you’re given. _

The words he had told her one hundred days prior on the night of their meeting flitted through his brain - advice he had snapped in her face, not realising it had actually come to help her.  _ Don’t wallow in misery, just take what you can in life  _ \- that was what he’d essentially meant, and it was relevant now; of course, it was different when the advice was applied to  _ him. _ But why not? Either way, there would be pain. Why not seize those seventy-odd years he had left with Amelia, and enjoy her presence while he could?

_ Because you do not deserve it,  _ he told himself.

His thoughts were interrupted by Amelia’s content sigh.

“It’s weird how loneliness affects a person”, Amelia murmured, and Loki wondered how their thoughts could so easily resemble each other’s without any sort of psychic connection, though perhaps it was just natural for two once-lonely people to dwell on the fear of isolation, “It’s like… since my brother died, everything has been at a standstill for me. Like time itself stopped ticking - nothing felt  _ real  _ for me, not until you came along.”

Loki looked at her face, his eyebrows furrowed, and Amelia smiled apologetically.

“Sorry, I probably sound like I’m not making much sense. I don’t know how to explain it very well. My life was… just redundant. Sleep, eat, work, repeat - it just felt like my life wasn’t leading up to anything, like the shock from my brother’s death just knocked me astray. I didn’t know what to do with my free time, I just cleaned and worked,  _ god,  _ I was miserable”, she paused to look sheepishly up at him, “I don’t mean to be a downer, I’ve just wanted to tell you about this for a while now, I didn’t really know how to bring it up. But ever since I met you, ever since you began spending time with me, everything feels like it’s been  _ moving  _ again!”

The emotion behind Amelia’s words made Loki swallow, guilt rising up as she emptied her heart out to him while he continued to live a lie.

“I suppose I’ve just wanted to say…  _ thank you. _ You unknowingly pulled me out of this cruel timeless limbo and saved my life in more ways than one”, she chuckled quietly, her eyes glistening, and then repeated again, her voice softer still, “Thank you.”

Loki did not speak, his eyes falling to the restless flow of water below, and Amelia licked her lips, swallowing the need to let her tears fall freely, she sniffed and blinked her eyes, dismissing the emotions before they could overwhelm her.

“There’s something else”, Amelia whispered, “Something I need to tell you, James-”

_ “Stop  _ calling me that.” 

The final string snapped in Loki’s mind - he could not take it anymore, not after everything she’d just told him. He couldn’t carry on like this, pretending to be somebody he wasn’t; Loki released Amelia’s hand, clenching his fists at his sides as every nerve in his body fizzled with apprehension - there was no changing his mind now, not after his impulsive outburst.

“I… what?” Amelia sounded utterly confused, her eyes blinking with perplexity as her mouth hung open - and Loki might’ve found her expression to be adorable if it wasn’t for the rising terror resonating in his chest at what he was about to admit.

“Amelia”, Loki sighed, distress evident in his voice, “I lied to you.”

Amelia held his gaze, shaking her head in bafflement, “What are you saying?” There was a hint of fret in her expression that Loki could not ignore - the severity of his tone having evoked a sense of anxiousness in the woman.

Loki’s mouth opened and closed several times as he tried to think of a way to reveal his secret, but there was no way to sugarcoat it. He looked her in the eyes, took a deep breath, and told Amelia the truth.

“I am Loki, of Asgard.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *hides*
> 
> Please comment <3 You know, despite how evil that cliffhanger was, that I totally love you all, right?


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are a couple of warnings for this chapter, first off is heavy angst and secondly is something that I wasn't ENTIRELY sure needed to be tagged. The warning is for self-harm but it's really not in the way it's typically expected, so I didn't think an official tag was in order for it because I don't want to mislead people.

 

The God of Mischief steeled himself, breath held tightly in his chest with anticipation as he awaited the moment the realisation would appear in Amelia’s soft, brown eyes. He stared hard at her face, jaw clenched, eyebrows knitted with the expectation that everything he and Amelia had built together would immediately crumble to pieces. Swallowing around the anxious lump in his throat, Loki forced his thunderous heartbeat to slow to a resting pace - there was no turning back, there was no denying now who he truly was.

Amelia’s lips parted, and her eyebrows furrowed, a look of hurt confusion befalling her, “That’s… not funny, James”, she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper, “That’s really not funny.”

Loki blinked, pursing his lips in a moment of bewilderment - he’d spent a large portion of his life fabricating stories and weaving lies. He was, of course, used to fooling people into believing the most inconceivable falsehoods with just a few charismatically spoken words, but occasionally there would be some who were not so naive, people who would side-eye him with the utmost distrust.

But Loki was not at all used to people doubting him when he told them the untainted  _ truth.  _

It was like a punch to the gut, really, being honest for once in his life only to be met with disbelief and the notion that he was just  _ joking around. _

“I wasn’t- I’m not-” Loki stammered, before taking a breath to force himself into a composed state, “I’m not trying to be funny.”

There was a twinge of astonishment in Amelia’s gaze, but it was twinned with dejection, and for the longest few moments, she said nothing - the world around them was oddly quiet, not even the woosh of the river current was loud enough to pierce the silence, and the once-biting breeze had become stagnant.

Her eyes were searching, trying to make sense of his words - but what he’d said was clear as day, so why did Amelia look as though he’d spoken with a language foreign to her ears?

“Then why... would you say that?” Amelia stuttered. She pinned him with her wide eyes, her body unnaturally still, like a statue.

Loki shook his head with baffled frustration, “Because it’s true”, he told her, “I am Loki, not James. James Barton does not exist.” The words streamed from his mouth, exasperated with the unyielding skepticism in her face, but still he did not see fear or disgust in her eyes as he had expected.

Another strong silence descended upon them as Amelia merely stared at him, and Loki wished she would show even a hint of anything except utter cynicism - he  _ needed  _ a reaction, the despondency in her eyes was far too daunting.

“Stop”, she whispered, like a helpless plea, “Just stop.”

Loki grasped her hands firmly, which had gone ice cold once more, and she took a small step back, but did not attempt to escape his touch. “Amelia”, he said, tone steady and resolute, “I have lied to you from the beginning, I hid the truth, but I am telling you now:  _ I am Loki.” _

At last, her eyes narrowed in anger, but not for the reason Loki presumed.

“You need to fucking  _ stop, _ James”, she cried, attempting to throw fire into her words, but she ended up sounding more akin to a kicked puppy.

Loki let out a woeful sigh, eyes slipping shut with rising impatience; his chest thrummed with an unwanted stab of dismay and his lungs felt like they were growing tighter, compact, making it hard to breathe normally. There was only one way to prove his unwelcomed truth.

He released her hands and flexed his fingers, a bright green illumination extending from his palm to slither up his body and change his appearance to something more recognisable; Loki heard Amelia’s gasp, and the way her breath caught halfway in her throat, her face culminating in an expression of distressed shock that caused an undesirable sensation behind Loki’s ribs - as though some unseen force was tugging on his very heartstrings.

Amelia’s eyes grew wet, her face as white as a sheet as she observed the familiar green and gold of his Asgardian attire, and, of course, the distinguishing, golden horns curling from the helm upon his head; she jerked back, shaky hands poised in front of her body as though it was enough to shield herself from him.

At once, her eyes were filled with terror, and Loki’s entire being burned with sorrow as he saw the foreseen fear, outrage and anguish radiating from her. This was it, a look he’d never wanted to receive from Amelia - the pure recognition that she was staring at a disreputable villain that had been responsible for taking the lives of hundreds of innocents and causing wide-scale damage to the city, a man who had lied to her, gained her trust,  _ touched her  _ in such intimate ways, and then revealed the truth about what he was - a filthy  _ murderer,  _ a monster who did not deserve all the kindness, generosity and care she had offered him so freely and without hesitation.

“Amelia…” her name fell from his lips, soft and pleading as he felt his body grow numb; the knowledge that he would never again feel her warmth slashed at him like a sharpened blade, and he wished that he might’ve stolen one last kiss from her before babbling out his dark secret.

He rose a hand to reach for her, and Amelia lurched, running blindly away to put as much distance as possible between herself and the  _ monster,  _ darting into the road without so much as a glance to check the way was safe.

She did not see the car barrelling towards her until it was too late to react.   
  


 

 

Loki, however, did.

The vehicle’s horn blared as Loki bolted after her, pulling Amelia from the path of the oncoming car with incomparable speed, thus saving her life once again. Loki’s heart raced in his chest, pounding almost painfully with the sound of blood rushing past his ears, his arms clutching the woman so tightly, like a lifeline, as adrenaline pumped through his veins - the thought of almost losing her was enough to render him temporarily voiceless and he toppled to his knees on the hard, icy sidewalk.

Amelia seemed frozen solid in his hold; the shock of almost being run down and the budding revelation Loki had uttered mere minutes ago were enough to paralyse her as she struggled to recover.

Loki let out a shaky sigh, “Amelia, I’m not going to hurt you”, he spoke with express honesty - the last thing he’d ever do was lay a harmful finger on this woman, and he cradled her against him with the most delicate embrace he could muster by way of communicating his innocuous intentions.

At last, Amelia came back to herself, looking up at him with wide, haunted eyes so full of tears that Loki could not help the imploring gaze he regarded her with, willing her not to see him as a threat; the woman opened her mouth.

_ “You killed my brother.” _

Everything staggered to a halt. 

Up until then, he had held onto a fraction of hope, a foolishly optimistic belief that Amelia might have come to forgive his past misdeeds upon coming clean, that they could continue as they had been, their relationship growing more profound and intimate than Loki had ever anticipated.

But now, that was just an unobtainable wish. Amelia could surely never forgive him, not for this. 

The numbing sensation in Loki’s body increased tenfold, his eyes wide and mouth slack with unchecked shock, and as a result, his hold on Amelia loosened. The immobilised feeling waned as soon as Amelia reeled back and punched him square in the nose with all her strength, without restraint.

It was more the surprise of the assault than the force behind it that caused Loki to lose his balance, and he tumbled back, his hand flying to his face to check his nose was still in one piece - it was, of course, because even the most determined of mortals could not summon enough power to physically harm a God, at least not with a meagre fist.

Loki observed as Amelia used the opportunity to force herself to her feet and stagger away as fast as her legs could carry her, not looking back for even a moment; Loki watched her disappear around the corner and did nothing to attempt to follow her - what was the point? His secret was revealed, their relationship was over and any venture to speak to her or explain himself would be in vain.

As Loki’s Asgardian attire and horns simmered out of existence to be replaced with his Midgardian disguise, it began to rain heavily -  _ the perfect mood for the moment, _ he thought wryly, and pulled himself to his feet; he pursed his lips, composed himself with a blank expression, and trudged back to Avengers Tower through the wet and cold, blessedly not coming face to face with his brother, Stark or Banner on the way to his room.

He did not bother to shed his saturated clothes before collapsing onto his bed.

* * *

 

When Loki awoke the following morning, shivering and coated with an uncomfortable dampness, he was confused, his eyes scrunched tightly together as he tried to distinguish whether or not he was lost in the midst of a grim nightmare; he moved his hand, reaching across the bed for Amelia’s familiar warmth, believing for a cruel half-second that everything was still alright, that he was lying beside her in her bed, fighting off the harsh elements of bitter dream - and then the recollection hit him.

He was alone, draped in his still drenched suit, a pathetic mess of a man who had  _ fucked up  _ because he’d allowed his emotions to get the better of him. Loki blazed with anger at himself, pressing his face against his clammy pillow and biting the soft material of it between his teeth as he tried to curb the rising fury in his mind.

_ Why had he given in to his guilt? _

He could have brushed aside his contrition like he had done so many times in the past, and continued as though he were the pleasant, attentive and alluring man Amelia thought him to be; he could’ve kept up the act so much longer, but he just  _ had  _ to let that accursed name -  _ James  _ \- fuel his irritation until he could stand it no longer. He was a damn fool.

Even now, he made a pitiful sight, his wet attire sticking to his skin awkwardly, making it hard to move as he rose from the bed; he made a noise of disgust as he tore at his clothes, peeling them from his body until he wore nothing, leaving them in disarray across the floor. The cold should not have affected him, and yet he trembled with the need for heat, because having experienced what it felt like to absorb Amelia’s warmth, his body now craved it desperately.

Loki’s lip curled with revulsion at his involuntary impulses; if his body wanted warmth, then that’s what he would give it.

He entered the adjoined bathroom and drew himself a bath with just a turn of the hot tap, not even bothering to gingerly test the temperature with his hand before stepping in and sinking down into the scalding water; his choked cry caught in his throat as his skin burned upon contact, the rising steam making it hard to breathe without feeling the scorched air in his lungs. Loki forced his body to withstand it, his eyes pricking with tears at the painful response, and even dunked his head under to wholly suffer the punishing sear.

The feverish temperature worked to sober him up from his raging thoughts, and he remained in the water until his head was clear and the looming dread of what he had done had diminished at least somewhat - leaving nothing but the sore, stinging sensation all over as his body protested at what he was putting himself through.

Loki had hoped the extreme heat would be enough to completely banish the pain of losing Amelia from his mind, but an air of impending worry brewed over him, like dark grey clouds, at the fret of how the mortal woman might be facing this development. The knowledge that she had been suicidal just a few months ago hung over him and picked at his mind persistently until he decided that he had to see her, just to make sure she hadn’t done anything  _ stupid  _ last night upon returning to her apartment.

With a pained groan, Loki pulled himself out of the bath, trying to ignore the dizziness that came over him, and glared down at the flourishing pink patches of skin all over his body where the water had singed him mercilessly. Perhaps it hadn’t been his brightest idea to bask in a tub of desiccating heat - it was, after all, a natural weakness to his Jotun heritage.

He didn’t care, though. It wasn’t as though the affliction was undeserved.

Loki summoned fresh clothes with a flick of his wrist, shrouding himself in another identical black suit, and made his way purposefully out of the building with the help of a cloaking spell.

* * *

 

When Loki arrived at the door of Amelia’s apartment, he stood unmoving for several long minutes, debating whether or not to knock and be granted permission to enter, or to simply allow himself in with the use of magic and possibly bear the the brunt of her, no doubt, still blistering rage. He was not there to try and sway her unimaginable hatred for him, there was no point in trying; he had  _ killed her brother  _ \- nothing he could say would ever remedy that. He was merely there to check on her, to put his trepidation at ease.

_ You’re here for selfish purposes,  _ the voice in his mind accused him,  _ You just don’t want to have to deal with more guilt if it turns out she has taken her life.  _ Loki swallowed, shaking his head. No, that was not the reason. He cared about her, wanted her to be safe. The mere thought that she done such a thing brought a thrum of panic to his mind.

So he unlocked the door as he had done before, with a probing tendril of magic, and entered covertly, keeping his eyes and ears peeled for clues and sounds of life - he did not immediately hear anything and the apartment felt empty, a sign of which Loki could not figure out was for the best or not.

He checked every room, including Aaron’s old room - he was met with a sharp stab of remorse, reminding himself that he was the cause for all of Amelia’s suffering, he was the reason she’d spent the last five years wallowing in misery \- but she was nowhere to be found; Loki’s thoughts kicked off immediately, imagining all the possible scenarios that may have taken place - what if Amelia had never made it home? What if she’d been accosted in the darkness of the night by another group of thugs and was now lying dead in an alley or a ditch? What if she’d simply located the closest bridge and flung herself off of it?

Loki did not realise his breathing had sped up until he forced himself to calm down, inhaling and exhaling at a regular pace - this show of weakness was pitiful, he was letting his emotions control him again. He just needed to take a moment and actually  _ look  _ around him.

_ Amelia’s coat.  _ The fluffy-lined, navy blue coat she’d been wearing the night before was hung up against the hook by the door, indicating that she  _ had  _ indeed made it home; Loki gave an inaudible sigh of relief, loathing himself for overreacting and overthinking things.

But if she wasn’t home, then where was she?

An uncomfortable twist formed in his stomach as he wondered whether Amelia would’ve been desperate enough to knock of Ethan’s door for comfort - the thought sounded outrageous, she hated the man, but she had to have hated Loki more. It was highly implausible, but not impossible; humans were dull-witted when they were emotional and if there was even a tiny chance that Amelia had hopelessly seeked out reassurance from that unsavoury man then Loki needed to  _ know. _

He knocked at the apartment opposite Amelia’s, and waited. It took several minutes and a few more raps on the door, but eventually it opened to reveal Ethan, eyebrows furrowed as he sipped from his steaming coffee mug, and the man’s expression tensed at the sight of Loki. 

Amelia’s neighbour regarded him with a less than pleasant look, “What do you want, man?” He asked, a slight whine to his tone as though he was exasperated that Loki was bothering him.

Green eyes narrowing dramatically, Loki glared, pinning Ethan with an unforgiving scrutiny; his gaze lifted to briefly inspect the room behind the sleazy man, content with finding no sign of Amelia, while simultaneously more apprehensive of the fact.

“I’m looking for Amelia”, Loki stated, “Do you know where she is?”

Ethan’s beady eyes scrunched with confusion, “Probably at work”, he responded with a hint of something that suggested Loki should’ve known this, and he continued to watch him with a contemplative look, slowly drinking his coffee as he did so - Loki did not appreciate the spark of judgement in the mortal man’s stare.

“Where does she work?” Loki asked, restraining the urge to growl his detestation; he knew she worked in a florist nearby, but he had no idea how he could locate it on his own without spending a vast amount of time prowling every inch of the immediate area, and he really didn’t want to waste another minute.

“How do ya not know that?” Ethan droned, “You’re her boyfriend, aren’t you?” 

Loki’s jaw clenched, his lips pulling back to reveal his teeth reflexively, the powerful urge to throttle this man growing stronger and stronger with each passing second.  _ “Just tell me”,  _ he hissed, unsure of what specifically was causing the unbridled wrath to swell inside him - he just felt so  _ angry. _

Ethan seemed to recoil slightly at the menace behind Loki words, “Leave the main building entrance and turn right, it’s a straight walk, about seven blocks down Lexington Street”, the man wisely revealed, and Loki didn’t squander another moment, turning swiftly to make his way to the elevator down the hall. He heard Ethan scoff and mutter  _ ‘some boyfriend you are’,  _ and Loki ceased his march, fists clenched so hard at his sides that his nails pierced the sensitive skin of his palms.

_ Surely, no one would miss Ethan if he were to mysteriously vanish?  _ He didn’t seem like type to have a wide selection of respectable friends - the compulsion to snap the man’s neck arose and it took such an impressive amount of willpower to hold back that Stark probably would’ve been proud of him.

Loki took a steadying breath and stepped into the elevator, rendering himself invisible with just a thought and a flash of green, hoping he would find Amelia well and safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The warning for self-harm alluded to Loki submerging himself in scalding hot water on purpose, so you can probably see now why I was on the wall about adding it as an official tag.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed the sweet angst though! Congrats to everyone who predicted the cause of Aaron's death! ...That's such a weird thing to type out.
> 
> I'm always worried that the quality of my chapters sometimes take a dive so I really hope this is up to the same standards as previous chapters - please let me know if anything seemed inarticulate because despite having this chapter up quicker than usual, I felt kinda unwell yesterday and this morning so I'm afraid it might've lowered my ability to write somewhat D:
> 
> If that's the case, then I promise the things I have planned for the next chapter will hopefully make up for it!!!


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Loki is just not alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: MORE ANGST.

Loki weaved around and between the populace of Manhattan with slick, long strides, drawing precisely zero attention thanks to the assistance of his magic. Usually, he would not waste his energy on invisibility spells and instead elect to slink through the darkness, naturally unseen with skill and grace, but not today; he had no time to dally, and edging around the backends of buildings would increase his journey by unwanted minutes. The uncomfortable twinge in his stomach seemed to contract all the more with every step closer to his destination, and when the florist came into view, Loki had to swallow the lump in his throat.

It was the only florist around, identified by the dazzling array of multi-coloured blooms organised perfectly outside the shop in a neat and encompassing display, designed to entice and pull one in for a closer look; Loki breathed in the sweet aroma rising from the exhibit of bouquets as he approached, pressing himself against the wall to avoid touching the passing humans, and peered in through the window of the small, dainty shop.

Loki’s heart leapt in his chest; Amelia was there, she was alive, and she seemed… unexpectedly  _ alright. _

She had looked so distraught the night before as she’d fled from him in a merge of tears and frantic breaths, emotional and torn - and yet, unless Loki’s eyes deceived him, there she was, smiling at the customer she was seeing to, engaged in conversation, with a look of radiance about her face. Loki blinked a few times fast, there was nothing to suggest she had spent the night agonising over the sense of betrayal he had expected her to emit.

He felt ashamed at how it wounded him to see Amelia in a more controlled emotional state than himself. 

_ Because you wanted to see Amelia distressed and suffering. You want to know that it hurts her to push you away as much as it hurts you to be pushed away. _

Loki’s teeth ground together as the voice in his mind taunted him again, he shook his head and denied its cruel words - of course he didn’t want Amelia to feel miserable because of all of this. That was the  _ last  _ thing he wanted. 

But he wanted to know that the decision to run from him the night before had been at least a little difficult for her. That was all. He just needed to know that, after the days they had spent together, casting him aside was not such an easy choice to make.

He needed to be closer.

Loki stepped around the finely-arranged clusters of flowers and slipped in through the front of the shop, moving with light steps and modest movements, so as not to arouse the suspicions of delicate ears - he was concealed by a veil of magic concerning vision, but he still had to be cautious not to make a sound - and watched Amelia from the opposite side of the room.

The scent of the flowers were practically overpowering within the shop, and his sight was filled with every hue of the colour spectrum; it was truly no wonder Amelia had taken this job - it was comprised of everything she adored and everything that represented her as a person, in Loki’s eyes.

From a distance, he gazed at the woman; his eyes found the pale, pink, flowery hairclip in her hair, pinning back the strands from her eyes, her locks were wild and unkempt, but that was simply the way she let her hair fall naturally, and was not indicative of a rough night’s sleep. 

Her voice was a pitch higher than usual as she spoke to the man before her who seemed to be in the process of purchasing a summery wreath; she smiled at him, held eye contact, her tone was steady and professional, and nothing seemed out of the ordinary with her - it seemed that she radiated a sense of contentment.

But when her client paid for his wreath and left, Amelia’s perfectly formulated smile fell, and it was clear to Loki then that he had misunderstood the situation completely. He stepped forward, moved in until he stood before the counter she sat behind, and scanned her face with firm attentiveness, finding that  _ no, she was not alright.  _ A closer look revealed the truth.

Her eyes were void of the joyful spark that he’d seen so many times before, replaced with an emptiness so deep that it was hard not to drown in the torment she exuded; something about her skin was off, a slight discoloration that Loki quickly deduced was due to makeup - she had added a pinkness to her cheeks to make herself seem less pallid, and it was clear that she attempted to cover the grey bags under her eyes.

The colour of her lips were dulled and chapped, and she looked dehydrated above all else - a sure sign she’d spent a good majority of the night crying instead of sleeping.

Loki swallowed, forcing the guilt out of his mind.

“You alright, Amelia?” a young lady -  _ Amelia’s coworker, Loki presumed  _ \- asked curiously from the entrance to the staff room, and Amelia looked up, her face immediately plastered with a forced smile.

“Yes, I’m fine. Just tired”, was Amelia’s response, which was enough to abate the other woman’s concern, and Loki detested her coworker promptly - could she not see what was right in front of her? She was so blind to what was so clear - Amelia needed help, but all the humans in her life seemed so  _ useless. _

The other woman disappeared, and again, Amelia’s false smile fell. 

Loki held back a sorrowful sigh. Amelia played it so well, she’d had years to grow accustomed to smiling through the emptiness in her heart, but Loki, well, he was no stranger to heartbreak - the memory of his mother flickered briefly through his mind - but this feeling with Amelia, it was new and never before experienced, and the heartbreak was different,  _ fresh and writhing,  _ and Loki was not entirely sure how to combat it. The woman before him made it look so easy to hide this pain from others, but in Loki’s mind, the dejection was overflowing.

Still, while Amelia could fool the mortals around her, she could not fool him. It was her eyes that gave away the most, filled with desolate despair that was so apparent to Loki, because he’d grown used to staring into her eyes while they were shining with happiness.

_ There, you see,  _ said the voice inside his head,  _ she is hurting. You got your wish. _

When Amelia finished her shift mid-afternoon, Loki followed her home.   
  


* * *

 

Amelia dropped her mask when she thought nobody was watching, it was almost instantaneous as she stepped through the threshold into her apartment; Loki slipped in through the door behind her before she pushed it shut, and he could see, in her face and posture, the way she crumpled after holding up a deceptive facade all day. 

She looked lost, staring into nothingness, lost in her reeling thoughts that must have been full to the brim with gloom, and Loki just watched her, wishing he could see into her mind and placate her negative emotions, but what peace could he bring to her? He was the reason for her torment.

The eerie quietness left Loki uneasy; Amelia disliked silence - she always strove to break it whenever Loki was with her, be it with rambling conversation or simple soft humming, any type of background noise brought her comfort. But to see her so still and muted for an extended period of time was just awful.

After far too long, Amelia finally moved. She entered the bathroom and Loki remained outside the door, listening as she drew herself a bath. When the gentle splashes died down, he heard the muffled but sure sounds of crying, and pressed his forehead to the door, wishing her tears were not because of him, but knowing well enough that they were.

She stayed in the bath for over an hour, no doubt trying to scrub every inch of her body free from whatever remained of his depraved touch, washing away the corruption of every patch of skin he’d traced his vile fingers across, until all that endured was the impure memory of how he had lain with her over and over. 

Loki wondered, then, whether or not there was a spell in his arsenal that could erase him from her mind - whether he could grant her a final kindness and make it as though he had never marred her life with his presence.

_ Oh no,  _ the mocking voice sounded,  _ getting yourself off the hook won’t be that easy. She will always remember how you pretended to be someone you weren’t, how you deceived her without a care of her feelings. Don’t think you can change that. _

It was selfish of him to even consider it.

* * *

Loki returned the next day, on Wednesday morning, to shadow her once again, telling himself it was for an ethical cause. She was unstable and depressed - obviously, he needed to watch over her and make sure she did not relapse into alcoholism. That was the fabrication he convinced himself of.

It was interesting how much you could learn about a person by simply following them around without their awareness. Loki began to notice things about Amelia he had never realised before, things that seemed to be wholly insignificant, and yet at the same time, he hung onto them like her little quirks and mannerisms were of the utmost importance.

She was ambidextrous, able to write flawlessly with either hand. Loki discovered this as he watched her at work, writing down information on customer orders with her left hand, and when the phone to her left began to ring, she answered it and switched to effortlessly taking notes with her right hand. It was noteworthy, because it was uncommon. Even Loki could not write perfectly with  _ both  _ hands.

Loki observed over her shoulder as her pen glided across the lines with precision; her writing was eloquent and pretty, curly and articulate, and altogether not what he’d expected from somebody as clumsy as Amelia, though he noted with thorough inspection that the flicks of her letters were just a tad sharper when she wrote with her right hand.

Although Amelia enjoyed her job, Loki found that whenever it was a slow and there weren’t as many customers about, she would find ways to entertain herself, such as tapping incessantly on the counter, or doodling stars in her notebook.

It was nearing the end of Amelia’s shift when a certain scent of vanilla filled Loki’s nostrils - the very same scent he adored so much, that reminded him of comfort and tranquility, that he associated only with Amelia’s soft, brown hair. The potted flowers on the desk beside her gave off the strong and familiar aroma, and Loki wondered whether he had been mistaken in believing Amelia’s hair had always been fragranced with her shampoo - perhaps, instead, the alluring scent of the flowers had simply attached itself to her every time she worked, and left a lasting imprint.

Loki wished he could bottle the sweet smell and keep it forever; no other perfume that claimed to smell like vanilla would ever compare.

* * *

On Thursday, Amelia did not have work. Loki stood in the corner of her living room and watched her go about her day off; her melancholy left her enervated, and he merely stared as she wiped down the coffee table three times in a row, as though she was not satisfied with the level of cleanliness it generated. Even when the surface was sparkling clean, she continued to scrub at it as though it was spoiled with filth.

For a majority of the day, she did nothing but stare into an unseen abyss, her thoughts plaguing her and sapping her free time away. 

The silence was occasionally broken when she spoke aloud. 

_ “You’re an idiot.”  _ She reprimanded herself with a whisper when she spent a full ten minutes searching for her television remote, only to find that it had been in her hand the whole time.

But apart from that, the agonising noiselessness continued.

* * *

On Friday, Loki followed Amelia to the cemetery after her work shift came to an end. She carried with her a fresh sprig of lilies in her arms, intent to lay them upon her brother’s grave, and Loki trailed at a slight distance, feeling as though eavesdropping on anything she wished to say to Aaron’s headstone would make him more of a villain than he already was.

He held back, allowing her the privacy, but his heart dropped when instead of lingering to speak to her deceased brother as she had done before, Amelia merely replaced the wilted lilies and immediately turned to leave.

His brain offered a helpful explanation.  _ Did you think she would want to loiter around the place you first met her?  _

* * *

On Saturday, Loki decided he would stay the night in her home when he caught her nodding off during her work shift. It had only become more obvious with each passing day that she wasn’t filling her sleep quota, and humans were delicate creatures - they required a solid eight hours sleep to maintain their health and feel well-rested.

Upon leaving the florist at the end of her shift, the clouds above burst and it started to rain moderately; Loki was enraptured by the way Amelia’s hair formed little ringlets when it became wet.

When Amelia cut through the short alley across from her apartment building, she slowed to a stop and turned to face Loki, her eyes piercing through him, and he froze at once, wondering if she’d somehow acquired some sort of sixth sense that alerted her to his presence.

She scanned the way behind her for a few seconds, looking  _ through  _ him with a tense pinch of dread in her face, before it softened and she continued on her way.

It had just been a coincidence.

That evening, Amelia sat on the couch, a blanket wrapped around her body as she stared mindlessly at the television until two o’clock in the morning, jerking herself upright every time her head dipped sleepily of its own volition; Loki speculated whether it was because he was present in her nightmares, and that she was too afraid to lay her head down to rest.

By the time it neared three o’clock, Loki was pulling at his hair, pondering how much longer Amelia could possibly put off her body’s basic need and if she ever intended to allow herself even a couple hours of peaceful respite.

Loki made the decision for her; he quietly crossed the room and pressed two fingers to her forehead, his magic coaxing its way into her exhausted mind, whispering to her,  _ lay down, close your eyes, clear your mind,  _ and she was out like a light before she even registered the touch.

He carried Amelia to her bed, confident in the belief that she would simply assume she had crawled there herself, cradling her in his arms a little longer than necessary, just to feel a few precious moments of warm contact, before laying her down upon the comfort of the soft blankets he had spent many nights between. Instead of returning to Avengers Tower, he situated himself at the end of the bed, and sat there for the rest of the night.

* * *

On Sunday morning, Loki was startled when Amelia’s wake-up alarm sounded at eight o’clock; his heart raced from the momentary fright and he slinked out through the open door of Amelia’s room, still cloaked with magic, as the woman drowsily came too, hoping the sound of his surprise had not pierced through her slumbering state.

The day continued as all the others, with woe hanging heavily over both Loki and Amelia, sadness ever present even while Amelia pretended to appear cheerful in the face of her customers and coworkers.

Loki had become a little too comfortable and a little less cautious while overseeing Amelia, sitting against the drawer cabinet behind her -  _ the pads of his feet had begun to hurt from standing so motionlessly for hours on end  _ \- when Amelia’s coworker poked her head out from the back room.

“Do you have the inventory list, Amelia?” the woman enquired, one eyebrow arched.

Amelia had blinked with uncertainty for a few moments, before nodding her head, “Yeah, I think it’s in one of these drawers behind me.” She turned in her swivelling chair, and Loki jolted into movement when he realised she was referring to drawers he was leant against. He vaulted over the counter to avoid her hands as she reached toward him, doing so with all the grace he could muster, and Amelia looked up, eyes falling to the papers on the desk as she heard them rustle from the breeze Loki generated.

Her eyes were wide and confused, and Loki wasn’t sure if she had actually seen the papers shift from his sharp movement.

“Amelia, I need the list, please”, her coworker urged her, and Amelia blinked, her attention drawn away, allowing Loki a moment to collect himself.

_ If she knew you were watching her, she’d hate you all the more,  _ warned the voice in his head,  _ Why do you continue to stalk her? She does not need you leering over her every move. She has not shown signs that she will give up, so stop kidding yourself. _

But Loki did not wish to take the chance.

* * *

That night, when Loki forced her to sleep again, she stirred mid-way through her slumber, crying out softly, a note of fear lacing her voice.  _ A nightmare, _ Loki deduced. 

_ “Please… stop, no…”  _ she uttered weakly, and tears squeezed their way out from between Amelia’s tightly closed eyes; Loki knew he was to blame.

_ So fix it,  _ the ethereal voice hissed.

He reached out with his magic, modifying the nightmare before the very eyes of her unconscious mind, and changed the darkness to radiance. He removed the pain and misery, pressing a deep sense of soothing into her consciousness, and watched as the creases in her face lessened, her expression softening into something more mollified.

And then, for added measure, he built the world around her, filling her dreams with bright and beautiful flowers - a calm meadow that she could explore to her heart’s content, with nothing to fear and nothing to worry about.

He remained crouched above her for a while as she slept peacefully, and dipped down to brush his lips against her forehead.

She did not have to work on Monday, so she would not be prematurely pulled from the blissfully kind fantasy when morning came.

* * *

Loki felt drained. 

Ordinarily, he would have no problem upholding a simple invisibility spell for an extended amount of time; it was practically habitual, requiring only the barest amount of concentration, and he could replenish his magical energy faster than he could expend it. It was as easy to maintain as it was to breathe.

But Loki had not eaten, nor had he slept, for the many days he had spent stood over Amelia, too focused on observing her every move to even think about seeing to his own needs, and now the combination of magical expense and his body’s lack of nutrients had begun to take its toll.

He had considered leaving, just for a short time, to eat something and take a short nap, when Amelia’s gaze had travelled towards the sealed bottles of red wine that had remained unobtrusive on the shelf for the past week.

Loki’s heart lurched and he stared hard at the back of Amelia’s head as she rose from the couch and stepped gingerly towards the bar; he shook his head, willing her not to give in to the need to drown herself in alcohol. It would not do her any favours to become inebriated in an attempt to forget her sorrows - it would merely enhance them.

Amelia oscillated, and Loki thought that perhaps she might refrain, but then she appeared to make up her mind, and plucked up one of the bottles, unscrewed the lid, bringing it to her lips.

_ She’ll drive herself to alcoholism again, and it’s all your fault,  _ the voice declared in a sing-song sort of way, mocking Loki all the more, and he ground his teeth together so hard that his jaw ached, pulling at his hair until it felt like he might rip it from his scalp.

**He did not want to be the villain anymore.**

But Amelia did not drink the red wine. She brought it to her nose, inhaled the rich scent, and made a noise of disgust, quickly screwing the lid back on; she did not like red wine, Amelia had told Loki before.

Loki exhaled a sigh of relief.

With a suddenness that Loki was not prepared for, Amelia grasped the wine bottle by its neck and turned, flinging it towards the wall by his head; he recoiled in shock, felt the wine splash against him as the bottle shattered with a deafening sound, and watched, frozen in place, as Amelia crumbled to her knees and burst into tears, hands covering her face as she convulsed with grief.

She showed no signs that she knew he was there, but Loki slipped back into the corner of the room anyway, feeling oddly exposed despite his shrouding spell; Amelia pulled her shredded senses temporarily back together to shuffle to her feet and stumble across the room towards the mess of glass and wine, kneeling down with shaking hands to pick up the bigger shards. It seemed she intended to clean it up, but for a while she just sat there tearfully, as though she did not know where to start.

A sharp knock at the door disturbed both occupants of the room, and Loki knew immediately, without a shadow of a doubt, who was banging against the entrance to Amelia’s apartment; he felt himself bristle, the hair on the back of his neck raising with dread, and Amelia plodded up and opened the door, not even bothering to mask her low spirits.

Ethan stood at the threshold, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise at Amelia’s tear-soaked face, and Loki clenched his fists as the man spied the broken glass on the floor over her shoulder.

“I… uh… I heard the glass break”, Ethan mumbled warily, eyes flicking around the rooms behind Amelia,  _ searching,  _ “Do you need some help?” He nodded to the mess on the floor, and Loki felt his whole body vibrate with anger.

_ You prickle with rage, and yet, Ethan is the one offering to help Amelia. You huddle behind the bookcase and watch her struggle to hold herself together. What right do you have to be angry with him?  _ Loki’s mind argued with him, but he protested - no, there was something wrong with Ethan. Ethan was not offering to help Amelia out of the goodness of his heart. Ethan expected something in return-

_ Or perhaps you are the one who is entitled, lurking over Amelia’s shoulder like you’re permitted to watch her every move. Heh. And you call Ethan the sleazy one. _

Loki pressed his hands over his ears as if it would do anything to hamper the voice in his head. He forced himself to pay attention, to scrutinise Ethan with every ounce of concentration he could muster, searching for anything, a subtle action or a look that would solidify his assumption that the man had ulterior motives.

Ethan told Amelia to sit down while he dealt with the mess, disposed of the glass and cleaned up the wine, and then he brought the woman a cup of water, sitting beside her on the couch at a respectable distance.

“Are you alright?” the man asked softly, and Amelia shrugged her shoulders, eyes down as she swirled the cup in her hands, looking anywhere but the man’s face.

Loki seethed. Ethan was trying to deceive her somehow, he just knew it.

_ Or maybe you’re letting your ugly possessiveness control you, reading into things that just aren’t so. Amelia does not belong to you, you can’t get mad just because another man is trying to comfort her,  _ the voice pointed out.

No, Loki argued. Amelia was clearly uncomfortable with the man’s presence. Ethan had not awaited Amelia’s permission before slipping past her, he’d invited himself in to clean up the mess and sit the woman down.

_ You don’t have permission to be here either, you know. _

Loki shook the voice from his mind, pushing it down, electing to ignore it despite its equitable words. He observed as Ethan attempted to gently pry and figure out what was wrong with Amelia.

“Did you have a fight with your boyfriend or something?” Ethan enquired, his tone twisted into something casual and unassuming.

“I don’t have a boyfriend”, Amelia murmured, no hint of emotion to her voice, and although it had been quite clear that this was the case, hearing her say it out loud was like a slap to the face.

Something in Ethan’s expression changed, and Loki restrained himself from pouncing at the man that very moment; he crept closer, prowling behind the sofa like a lioness stalking its prey, and waited for an opportunity that would leave his impending actions justifiable.

“Oh, so you  _ did _ have a fight with him?” Ethan asked, and Amelia’s fingers flexed around the cup in her hands.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Was it really bad? Did he hurt you?” Ethan pressed.

“Please just drop it.”

Ethan’s lip curled up in disgruntlement and he rolled his eyes, “I’m just trying to help. You can do so much better than him, anyway.”

Amelia remained silent, but her body grew rigid as Ethan shuffled closer, close enough that his legged touched hers, and he gave her an expectant look.

“Look, I don’t know if you’re just completely oblivious or anything but I’ve been dropping hints left and right. I think you should give me a chance-”

“I’m not interested”, Amelia choked out, shifting minutely to lessen the contact. Ethan’s hand landed on her arm, preventing her effort to back away.

“Come on, Amelia”, Ethan spoke, in a tone that suggested he knew best.

“Don’t touch me, please”, Amelia’s voice was but a squeak, pleading and fragile.

Ethan pulled the cup from her hand, placing it on the coffee table, and pushed her shaking body back against the couch, looming above her. “You just need a man that’ll treat you right”, he proclaimed as she attempted to push him away.

That was it. Loki dropped his invisibility spell and roared as he prised Ethan away from the woman, hauling him over the back of the couch as the mortal man practically screamed in fright -  _ as well he should have.  _ Restraining the man, Loki pressed the blade of a conjured dagger to his throat, looking upon the mortal with a level of rage that would make the Hulk tremble.

Ethan babbled unintelligibly, eyes glistening as cowardly tears welled up and he flailed with a struggle, trying to escape Loki’s unrelenting hold.

“Beg for your life, you disgusting, wretched, slimy excuse for a man”, Loki hissed, his voice hoarse from having been silent for days, and he punctuated his words by applying slow pressure, an unspoken warning of what would come should Ethan not obey.

A rush of spineless whimpers tumbled out of Ethan’s mouth, a mix of  _ please don’t kill me  _ and  _ I’m sorry,  _ but even watching Ethan plead for his life was not satisfying enough; the only thing that would quell the eternal frenzy in his mind was the pleasure that would come from slitting the man’s throat and witnessing the light leaving his eyes as his blood spilled all over the floor.

Well,  _ that,  _ or the terrified noise of Amelia begging him to let up, to  _ stop, _ and let the man go.

Loki’s gaze rose to the woman, the bloodlust seeping out of him. Amelia had scrambled away when Loki had acted, and she was currently huddled near the chest of drawers, hands held up in front of her as though she were trying to calm a wild beast.

“Just stop”, she whispered, her voice barely audible, eyes wide and full of terror, “Just let him go… you don’t need to kill him…”

Loki did not understand. The man had tried to violate her and yet she strove to protect him, looking at Loki like  _ he _ was the one who had attempted to debase her.

“But he was going to-” Loki began, but Amelia shook her head.

“I  _ know,  _ and I don't think he’ll try again. You don’t have to fucking  _ kill him”,  _ she cried, “Not in my goddamn apartment!”

Loki’s wrath had not completely subsided, but his grip on Ethan loosened against his better judgement, and the mortal man clambered away without hesitation, rushing out of Amelia’s home and slamming the door shut behind him. Loki did not immediately move, remaining knelt on the scuffed wooden floor that  _ could  _ have been painted with Ethan’s blood had Amelia not intervened.

He looked to her, his dagger dissolving from existence, slumped slightly from exhaustion, and Amelia stared back, her expression a little more frantic, hands clenched and quaking.

“You’ve been following me around all week, haven’t you?” Amelia sniffled, and the hint of disapproval in her tone made Loki want to deny it, but instead he simply nodded, “I thought so”, she hissed bitterly.

Loki swallowed, his throat uncomfortably dry, “I wanted to make sure you didn’t do anything stupid”, he admitted, to which Amelia scoffed, her face the picture of scorn, “I looked out for you. Helped you sleep, eased your nightmares”, he said defensively.

_ “You were the reason I couldn’t sleep in the first place”, _ Amelia wailed, “I could feel your eyes on me the whole time -  _ do you know how fucking creepy that is?” _

With harsh, angry breaths, Loki retorted, “You should be thanking me.”

“What the fuck for?” Amelia cried, her tone prominent with incredulous anger.

“I saved your life”, Loki snapped, “Multiple times. I deterred you from suicide, protected you from thugs. I comforted you when you were grief-stricken, I pulled you from the trajectory of a speeding vehicle,  _ and now  _ I have saved you from a rapist”, he grew more hysterical as he listed off each and every time he had come to Amelia’s aid. He forced himself to his feet, ignoring the way Amelia flinched at his sudden movement, “and still, you treat me as anything less than a hero.”

Amelia regarded him with shock, her tear-streaked face a sobering sight which provoked the realisation that he was doing nothing to help his case. He sounded like a maniac, demanding praise for the actions that could never make up for one glaring fact.

“You killed my brother”, Amelia gasped out, forcing herself to stay calm and not hyperventilate, “Do you… do you understand that?  _ You killed him,  _ and you think you deserve to be called a hero?”

She was right. Loki was the furthest thing from a hero that could ever exist.

He rubbed his hands down his face, fingers steepling below his chin, “You told me your brother died in an accident…”

A distraught sound tore its way from Amelia throat and she covered her eyes, “A fucking  _ building _ fell on him. He was  _ helping  _ people that were injured, because of you, and a building  _ collapsed and crushed him.  _ He was trapped for hours, barely alive, in a fucking coma,  _ because of you.” _ She weeped, choked sobs leaving her as if it physical pained her to recount the story of her brother’s death.

Loki’s throat stung from the dryness as he clutched his hands together, wringing them repetitively, “If… if I had known, I…”

“What would you have done?” Amelia whispered, and Loki shook his head. If he had known he was responsible for Aaron’s death, he would never have allowed himself to become close to Amelia. He would have stopped himself from visiting her, disappeared without an explanation, and never come back.

“You can’t change it…” Amelia breathed, her voice low and feeble, “It happened. You can’t change it…” Her eyes slipped shut, fresh tears spilling forth. “On the pier… did you know what I was going to say? Before you told me who you really were?”

Loki swallowed, straining to hear the words coming out of her mouth; he remembered the way she had poured her heart out to him, the comments that had intensified his guilt to the point where he’d cracked. She said he’d brought her life out of its cruel purgatory, made time  _ tick  _ again, because she’d felt lost in a timeless void.

“I was going to say… that I loved you.”

Loki’s blood ran cold, feeling as though he’d just been stabbed in the chest.

_ Love. _

He was utterly unworthy of such a pure and virtuous emotion. How had Amelia fallen in love him with? He was _a_ _monster, a savage, murderous bastard who had tried to enslave a planet. He was cold and aloof, dismissive and cruel, he did not deserve care or kindness, and he did not deserve love._

He did not deserve it.

“...But not anymore...”, Amelia continued, shaking her head, “Not anymore.”

He did not deserve it, and yet, the retraction of Amelia’s confession was crippling. His hand flew to his torso, clawing at the material of his shirt, above his heart, as pain coursed through him like a spear; his chest was tight, he couldn’t breathe.

And out of nowhere, he felt the overwhelming urge to try and defend himself, to change Amelia’s mind somehow despite the finality in her words.

Loki lowered to his knees before her so that they were face to face, and Amelia pressed herself closer against the chest of drawers, her body trembling.

“Please”, Loki begged, “Let me explain myself. Please.”

Amelia held her hands up again, the universal sign for  _ don’t come any closer,  _ and shook her head again, “No. You need to go. Leave me”, she told him, not a sway in her voice.

“Amelia,  _ please”,  _ he tried again, reaching out to touch her arm.

_ “No”,  _ Amelia snapped, “If you don’t leave now, you’re no better than Ethan.”

Loki recoiled in horror at her words. That foul man -  _ Ethan  _ \- who sought to defile her - she was comparing Loki to  _ him? _

_ But she’s not wrong,  _ the voice droned,  _ she did not invite you into her home, and yet you are here. Like Ethan. You expect her to listen to you, as though you are entitled to her time. Like Ethan. You seek to touch her without her permission, like Ethan. Oh, yes. And you killed her brother. So in a way, I supposed, you are not like Ethan. _

Loki’s hand fell to his side.

_ You’re worse,  _ his mind told him, and he believed it.

“I don’t want to see you-”, Amelia gasped as she cried,  _ “Ever again.” _

Loki numbly left the apartment, and did not turn back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter marks the end of this fic being consistently in Loki's POV. From this point onwards it jumps around a little, going between a few different characters.
> 
> How's THIS for a long chapter? :P Almost 6000 words in less than two days. 
> 
> I go back to work next week after a sweet 2 weeks off, so there will hopefully be one more update before the schedule returns to normal at one update a week.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Loki is physically, mentally and emotionally exhausted, and Thor tries his best to be a good brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some violence this chapter! And a nice serving of some Loki whump. Poor guy needs a break.

Thor had known Loki practically all his life. 

He had been just a couple of years old when Loki had become a part of the family, and thus did not recall a time when his younger brother had not been a prominent piece of his childhood; there were good memories and there were bad memories, but above all else there was always, without a doubt, his fiend of a little brother smirking impishly in his peripheral vision.

He was  _ always  _ up to something, and that fact was the indisputable cornerstone that had led to the severe mistrust that eventually hit its boiling point. 

Loki was, at his very core, a troubled combination of mischief and tricks in the shape of a man who could not refrain from his pranks and deceptions even if he wanted to; his lies and illusions completed him, and that would never change.

Thor had suffered innumerable practical jokes, always the victim of his little brother’s ploys, to the point where they were too many to count, and it took him an embarrassingly long time to begin to notice the signs that Loki’s devilry was about to unfold - the telltale indications of his little brother’s expression and behaviour that acted as a warning to everybody in the room that  _ somebody  _ was about to get pranked. Usually Thor.

Loki perpetually made Thor look like a fool, from the days he could walk and talk, he was an opportunist, using every part of his environment, in ways that a two year old should not, to set traps, plan sabotage, and outwit his older sibling.

It was all just games to little Loki, even when Thor suffered various stab wounds -  _ never deep or grave enough to inflict everlasting damage  _ \- it was all just games that Thor strove not to let make an imbecile of him. Until it wasn’t.

Perhaps things would have been different had they not grown apart, but naturally they took different paths in life that seemed to always lead back to one another, whether they wanted it or not. Nevertheless, it had not felt like such a victory when Thor saw through Loki’s illusions for the very first time in his life, the day their mother died. He’d seen the  _ true _ pain in Loki’s eyes that was so far from pretense, not even his little brother could shield the agony of heartbreak and loss. 

It was the very same look Thor noticed in Loki’s eyes as he entered the main quarters of Avengers Tower that evening, and immediately he knew something was wrong. He stood as his younger brother approached. Loki’s face was ashen, far paler than usual, and the skin around his eyes was dark and discoloured; he appeared exhausted, and worryingly so, looking almost as ragged and worn as Thor remembered him looking during the Chitauri invasion five years ago. Instead of his usual slicked back hair, it was tangled and neglected, missing its customary sheen, and splashed with something damp that gave off a distinctly fruity smell - possibly wine, but Loki didn’t seem intoxicated again.

“Brother?” Thor enquired cautiously, but said nothing beyond that, too unsure of Loki’s current mental state to risk saying anything that could potentially set him off in a bad way. Tony and Bruce watched curiously from across the room, both possibly a little wary at the atypical way Loki had presented himself.

The face that stared back at him was void of expression, which wasn’t generally outside of the norm as it was Loki’s second favourite countenance behind derision, but when paired with the hollow, desolate look in his eyes, it could only indicate something foreboding.

“I wish to spar with you, brother.” Loki’s voice was impassive in tone, but coarse and rough as opposed to its regular smooth timbre, sounding as though he had not drunk anything for days, and looking very much like it as well.

Thor’s brow furrowed slightly, “Are you sure you would not rather… sleep first, Loki?”

Loki’s hauntingly rigid gaze did not falter, and he continued to stare at Thor without putting in a hint of effort to hide the anguish in his eyes; Thor braced himself, expecting the other to explode with anger at any given moment - he knew his brother, and he knew that rage most often followed grief.

But instead, Loki responded, frighteningly calm, “No. Now”, and he turned to leave the room, not even sparing the two humans to his left a single glance as he walked away, pausing at the door to urge Thor to move, “Well, are you coming?” Loki did not give him time to respond before disappearing into the corridor and making his way, presumably, to the elevator that led to the training room.

Thor regarded Tony and Bruce with a disquieted expression, “Something’s wrong”, he stated quietly, in case Loki was still within earshot.

“No shit”, Tony said, “Do we need to, y’know, call in any reinforcements? No offense, but your bro’s not looking too well.”

Thor breathed a small sigh, “Let me talk to him before we do anything drastic.”

“Really?” Bruce questioned, his voice rife with cynicism, “Last time he looked like that, he was set on invading New York.”

Shaking his head, Thor trailed after his brother, “I’ve gotten through to him before, I can do it again”, he proclaimed, though the uncertain ridge in his assertion did nothing to alleviate the clear concern on his friend’s faces. “Trust me”, he remedied, with a forced note of confidence as he pursued his younger brother.

* * *

Taking the elevator down into the basement level, Thor stepped into the spacious arena, eyes on Loki who stood in the centre of the room, patiently waiting. He’d changed from his Midgardian suit into his hallmark Asgardian battle-wear, but hadn’t bothered to straighten out his hair, which was a jarring observation given Loki was habitually very meticulous.

His brother gave him barely a moment to prepare before he flexed his fingers and summoned his blades. “You took too long”, Loki hissed, before kicking off, sprinting towards Thor with his weapons raised for attack.

It took little exertion for Thor to evade his brother’s crude swipes, barely breaking a sweat as he bolted and swerved out of the path of the lethal daggers, catching Loki’s wrists before his weapons met their marks and throwing the man off balance. With Loki in such a fatigued condition, there was no way the mischievous God could compare to Thor’s strength and speed even with his one-eyed disadvantage.

But still, Loki fought, with rage and carelessness, trying his utmost to stab his brother whenever he thought he saw an opening to strike; Thor made no move to fight back, merely defending as he allowed the other to tire himself out. Loki grew blatantly frustrated, his breaths coming harsh and audible while his errant locks matted against his damp forehead.

His steps became sluggish, as did his thoughtless slashes, but his face turned more wild with each failed attack, more determined and incensed and  _ murderous.  _ Thor squinted as he caught both of Loki’s wrists, rendering the other effectively immobile as he struggled to pull away from the unyielding grip, and searched his younger brother’s face for any explanation or clue as to what had caused his apparent lapse in sanity.

“What happened, Loki? Why are you acting this way?” Thor questioned. Loki’s assault was practically laughable, he was far from his right mind and lacked strategy - something that was usually always present in his fighting capabilities - and yet, here he was, rushing at Thor with no rhyme or reason, and with all the effectiveness of an irritable kitten.

Loki roared with anger as Thor hoisted his wrists up high till his feet barely touched the ground, face burning with the humiliation at being held in such a position, unable to summon the leverage to yank himself out of his brother’s powerful grip.

“Let me go and fight me, you  _ recreant”,  _ Loki seethed, spittle flying as he hissed. Thor gave a sigh, wondering if entertaining his brother’s need for skirmish was at all a good idea - it was hardly a fair contest with Loki in his current state, but if the God of Mischief resolved to head to bed and return for a rematch tomorrow, things could get unwantedly dicey.

“Oh, was that  _ fighting?”  _ Thor taunted, unable to refrain from letting his big-brotherly desire to goad burrow through his concern, “I thought you were  _ dancing,  _ brother.” 

Loki grappled in Thor’s grasp, powerless to summon enough force behind the flailing kick he aimed at his brother’s shin, and Thor figured that if his little brother did not have any biting words to throw back at him, then things were clearly worse than he imagined. He acquiesced to Loki’s bait, and decided he might as well exchange a few blows, hoping that the younger would eventually surrender and offer elucidation for his reckless behaviour.

When Loki attempted to kick him again, Thor dropped him suddenly, sending him tumbling to the ground with a undignified shout, and before the other could collect his bearings, Thor picked him up and hurled him across the room. Loki grunted as he hit the steel floor, rolling a few feet as his daggers landed a little further away, he hastily pushed himself up -  _ Thor spied the way his forearms trembled as he did so _ \- and turned away from his brother to stagger towards his blades.

Thor crossed his arms challengingly, scrutinising Loki with a close eye; his little brother knew never to turn his back on an opponent, and yet he did so without a care, heedless of the potential repercussions. “Will you speak to me, Loki? Tell me what ails you.”

Loki squeezed his knives tightly before they dematerialised, and Thor’s eyebrows rose up, wondering if his brother was ready to accept the fact that he was in no condition to be squandering his energy, but the fierce look on his face suggested otherwise.

“Tell  _ me,  _ brother. Did it hurt when Jane dropped you like you were nothing?” His tone was cruel, intent on evoking a wounded response, and Thor’s brow knitted, the mention of his ex’s name doing just that.

“It was a mutual decision”, Thor muttered. Except it wasn’t. Jane had sprung it on him out of nowhere and left him speechless; he had thought things were fine between them, but it quickly became clear that Jane did not feel their relationship was fair and equal, based on the grounds that he was  _ never there.  _ Thor couldn’t hold it against her - she took the time to explain why she couldn’t commit to a relationship with him while he spent months at a time in a completely different realm, and Thor came to understand how it was inequitable to expect her to just wait for him, welcoming him back with open arms whenever he did pop in for a visit.

Loki threw his head back as a mirthless laugh erupted from his throat, “I am the God of Lies, brother. Not you. You are transparent, Thor,  _ you were smitten with her”,  _ he barked, edging forwards with slow strides as though ready to pounce at any moment. “You  _ adored  _ her”, he spat the words like they were poison on his tongue, “and she just discarded you, like trash.”

Thor swallowed, arms falling to his sides as he clenched his fists, he knew what his brother was doing - Loki was attempting to induce rage within him - but for which reason, Thor did not know. It was unwise of him to provoke Thor, regardless, given his currently delicate constitution, and Thor gave his brother a warning glare, implying what might happen if Loki continued as he was - the God of Thunder didn’t always know his own strength when he was vexed.

“Jane ended things between us because she was not happy with our relationship, due to my own negligence. I cannot fault her for that”, Thor spoke, his booming voice unwavering in his assertion.

_ “And it broke your heart”, _ Loki sneered, his hand alit with green, magical energy, which he promptly launched at his brother with great speed; Thor made a move to avoid it, but he needn’t have, because the sorcerer's projectile did not meet its mark, fizzling out of existence before it even came close to him. 

Thor frowned, surmising that Loki’s actions were not a part of some form of trickery, but were instead indicative of his still diminishing power. His suspicions were confirmed with the way Loki scowled at his own hand like it had betrayed him, and Thor shook his head, a note of pity seeping into his expression.

“You need to recuperate, Loki.  _ Brother,  _ what have you been  _ doing?”  _ Thor had not seen Loki for at least a week, which hadn’t set off any alarm bells given his younger brother had made it clear there were  _ other places  _ he’d rather be than Avengers Tower - namely, Amelia’s home - but Thor was beginning to think that perhaps he’d missed something. Something serious.

Loki had always been so careful when fighting at his side in battles, always using  _ just  _ the right amount of magic so as not to debilitate himself from overdoing it, but  _ this...  _ It was as though Loki’s mind had been warped and he wasn’t thinking clearly at all.

Before Thor could attempt to reason with his brother once more, Loki charged at him, balance slightly off-kilter, which made his attempt at a solid punch seem more like an awkward flail; Thor dodged his fist and brought his knee sharply into the other man’s stomach, driving Loki to the ground as he coughed and sputtered from having the air knocked out of him.

Thor made the mistake of thinking Loki was down for the count, and the seemingly crumpled trickster flung another ball of simmering energy into his brother’s face, catching him point-blank and completely off-guard - this time close enough that it reached its target - and Thor stumbled back with a grunt, hand flying to his face to assess the damage. It was nothing too terrible, the ball of magic lacked enough vigour to do anything but cause an uncomfortable sting and a very  _ brief  _ period of blindness.

Thor blinked his still functioning eye, forcing the blurriness out of his vision, and then his sight narrowed on his brother, who had scrambled up and now stood a fair distance from him, joined with two illusionary clones. Usually, the appearance of Loki’s clones was ultimately bad news because Thor was never quite sure which one was the  _ real  _ one, but now, as Thor stood before  _ all three _ of his younger brother, it was entirely too obvious.

“Loki, your illusions appear to be, ah, a little bit translucent”, Thor pointed out the middle and right-hand spectres, which were very clearly flickering in and out of existence; the real Loki - the one on the left - glanced across at his faulty duplicates, and a look of cursory defeat flashed over his face for the first time since they’d begun their fight.

Loki allowed his clones to disperse, and slumped, his breath coming out laboriously, and Thor regarded his brother with an empathetic look, “Come on, brother. Enough fighting. Talk with me.”

The words appeared only to infuriate the other, and Loki gritted his teeth,  _ “I don’t want to talk”,  _ he howled, his voice taut with underlying emotion that he so desperately tried to cover up. 

_ This is getting ridiculous,  _ Thor thought, as Loki once again brandished his daggers and charged him; Thor sidestepped and eluded every hack and slash, every mindless strike Loki threw at him, the wrath of his brother rising with every unsuccessful attack, and Thor thought Loki’s teeth might fall out from how tightly he grinded them together.

“Do you regret it?” Loki asked between the onslaught, “Do you wish you’d never met her?”

“Of course I don’t regret it”, Thor responded, jolting back as Loki aimed to slit his throat,  _ “Calm yourself,  _ brother”, he said, growing more and more frustrated the longer Loki kept this up - it was like the God of Mischief was  _ trying  _ to kill him… again.

_ “Why not!?”  _ Loki bellowed, his tantrum increasing tenfold,  _ “Our mother sacrificed her life to save Jane, doesn’t that make you angry?” _

A swift punch to the face sent Loki lurching backwards, taking only a second to regain his unreliable balance before throwing himself back at Thor with a roar; Thor hissed when his brother managed to land a strike from pure luck, a nasty laceration piercing the bulging muscle of his bicep, to which he wailed and slammed his forehead into Loki’s nose.

The younger of the two let out a pained shout and reeled back, dropping his blades to shield his face with his hands, Loki shook, collapsing in on himself slightly; Thor took a moment to try and dampen his own rising temper.

“I think your anger is misplaced, Loki”, Thor breathed, eyeing the deep gash on his arm that was courtesy of his  _ little shit of a brother.  _ “If you’re trying to blame Jane for mother’s death then you are a fool.”

Loki groaned, his face concealed by his long hair, “Jane was not to blame for mother’s death, _ but she was an ungrateful wench.”  _ There was a nasally tinge to his raspy voice that heavily implied his nose was broken. Good. With all the nonsense that was spewing from his mouth, Thor felt he deserved it.

Thor clenched his fists, not entirely conscious of the sparks beginning to dance around his fingers, “Enough, brother”, he warned with a low drawl, “You will not speak that way about Jane.”

“Why do you  _ care?”  _ Loki shrieked, raising his head with a wild look in his eyes, and Thor eyed the thin streaks of blood dripping from his nostrils, “She’s not your woman anymore! She hurt you, why do you defend her!?” 

Thor’s exasperation grew, “We may not be together, but I respect her.”

Loki’s mouth fell open in a bitter smile, eyes glimmering with derision as opposed to amusement, and twinned with the bloody nose, he looked practically demonic, “You’re nothing but an ignorant, simple-minded, dense  _ fucking  _ imbecile”, Loki affronted, pointing at his brother as if there were any doubt who the insults were directed at.

Thor let out an involuntary growl, bearing his teeth as Loki squared up again, stalking towards him with what Thor assumed was the intent to throw another punch.

Loki licked the blood from his lips, drawing in almost hysterical breaths, “Perhaps if you hadn’t fallen in love with a  _ vile, wretched mortal,  _ mother might still be alive!” His fist clenched, poised to strike, but Thor beat him to the punch -  _ literally - _ his booming shout reverberating throughout the room as he slammed a punishing blow into his little brother’s jaw.

What Thor hadn’t accounted for was the level of blazing fury Loki’s careless jeer invoked, and his vision flashed with white, lightning eject from his very fingertips and encroaching on Loki’s body as he flew like a ragdoll through the air. The God of Thunder froze, hands shaking as the residual anger escaped him in the form of electrical currents, and he stared at his brother who was splayed on his stomach, limbs twitching from the surplus of electricity causing his muscles to spasm.

“Loki”, Thor gasped, taking several apprehensive steps towards his younger brother. Loki’s hair once again masked his face, and Thor could not deduce the extent of his injuries.

After a few worrying moments, Loki moved, pushing up shakily, and with much difficulty, onto his hands and knees, face averted from his brother’s gaze. 

And then his shoulders quaked as he began to laugh, infuriating little huffs of amusement that brought back Thor’s rampant displeasure, “Enough of this foolishness, brother”, he snapped, marching towards Loki with purposeful strides, fire in his voice despite the relief that the other wasn’t badly wounded by his lack of control.

“We’ve settled this already, nobody is at fault for our mother’s death except for Malekith, and he’s dead”, Thor proclaimed, “so stop placing the blame with those who are not responsible. Stop fighting me and  _ talk to me.” _

His brother continued to titter, and Thor’s fists tightened, his posture drawn tense,  _ “What is so funny, brother?” _

Loki bowed his head, resting his weight on one arm to cover his face with his hand; the next thing Thor heard was a choked sob that sounded in time with a tremble that wracked Loki’s slender frame, and that was when Thor realised that nobody was laughing.

Loki was  _ crying. _

“Brother, are you injured?” Thor fell to his knees beside his younger sibling, concern lacing his voice as he laid his hand on Loki’s shoulder, encouraging the other man to face him, but Loki grew rigid immediately.

“Don’t”, Loki gasped, trying to stifle his tears and hide his face, and then, with resignation and a voice far more broken, “...just don’t.”

Thor’s heart jumped with guilt, he hated seeing Loki like this, “I’m sorry, brother. I did not mean to-”

“It’s not you”, Loki snivelled, followed by a sharp inhale, and he rubbed his eyes, trying to quell the flow of tears, before pushing back his hair to reveal his face.

Another stab of guilt rushed through him as Thor looked upon his brother’s bloody face, which was also marred with patchy abrasions triggered by Thor’s lightning; tears streaked down Loki’s face, trailing through the partially dried blood down his mouth and chin, and his eyes were rimmed with red, green irises glistening with misery. Despite his sorry state, Thor noted that the haunted emptiness that had been present in Loki’s eyes before was now gone, replaced only with sadness.

“Then why…” Thor’s question faded on his lips, unsure of what answer he wanted most.  _ Why are you crying? What made you so enraged? Why did you goad me into hurting you, brother? _

Loki did not offer an explanation for any of the enquiries rushing through Thor’s mind, but instead softly stated, “I miss mother.”

Thor’s gaze fell, “I know. So do I.”

“You don’t understand”, Loki continued, a twinge in his voice that pulled at Thor’s heartstrings - his brother was trying his best not to just simply break down, “I… I can’t…” he scrunched his face up, and promptly winced from the pain of his broken nose, “My last words to her were said in anger. I told her she was not my mother, but I… I didn’t  _ mean  _ it…”

At the torn look on his brother’s face, Thor did not hesitate. He reached for Loki, holding him with a firm hand around the back of his neck, and pulled him close, allowing the other to hide his face against Thor’s shoulder.

“We say things we do not mean when we are angry. Mother knew that, she knew you loved her dearly”, Thor assured him, swallowing the emotion that welled up behind his voice, “Is that why you’re crying, brother?” For a moment, he expected Loki to scoff and push him away like he always did when things became too sentimental, but Loki slumped in Thor’s hold, and that was how Thor truly knew that his brother was beyond shattered.

“No. It’s Amelia”, he admitted meekly, “I lied to her.”

Thor remained silent, waiting for his brother to continue and clarify, and when he did, his voice was thick with emotion once more, “She didn’t recognise me the night we met, so I invented an alias on the spot. She thought I was some unassuming mortal named James-” he paused, cringing slightly, “Unfortunately, we got close, and last week I told her the truth,  _ showed her  _ the truth”, he let out a bitter laugh which culminated in a whimper.

Thor frowned, pulling back to observe his brother’s face, “...and she did not take it well?”

Despite his downcast state, Loki mustered up some sarcasm and rolled his eyes, “No, Thor. She did not.” He sighed, long and exhausted, “Her brother died during the Chitauri invasion. I trust you can put two and two together.”

Yes, Thor understood the implication. “Oh, brother”, he exhaled, shaking his head with disapproval, “You’ve dug yourself into a hole.” While he was not surprised that Loki had lied and assumed a false identity -  _ let’s be honest, it was the kind of thing he would do _ \- he couldn’t help but keep the scolding note out of his voice, “You will have to think of a way to make this right.”

Loki eyes became glossy with tears once again and he shook his head, “It’s no use, Thor. She hates me. I tried to talk to her but she wouldn’t have it”, he sniffed, gaze falling to the ground as though the rivets in the steel floor were suddenly endlessly entertaining. “I… I don’t understand. I thought… I thought we were close, but she just pushed me away…”

Thor frowned, scrutinising his brother, sensing the parallels of the biting words Loki had thrown his way nearer the beginning of their skirmish.  _ Amelia must be something extraordinary for all of this to affect Loki in such a way. _

“She said she loved me...”

Thor felt his eyebrows shoot up at Loki’s words. Admittedly, he had been very curious all this time as to what kind of relationship Loki and Amelia shared, he assumed there had to be  _ something  _ there for Loki to visit her so frequently, but Thor had never imagined his brother could apparently be so charming as to make a mortal woman fall for him.

Loki’s gaze was distant, and Thor could see something eating away at him, something bothering his little brother to no end that perhaps he was too blind to understand -  _ which was ironic, given  _ **_he_ ** _ was the one missing an eye _ \- and Thor thought that he may have an inkling.

“Do you love her too, brother?” Thor asked, and within nanoseconds he was on the receiving end of Loki’s scandalised, incredulous look. Loki’s mouth fell open as if to viciously deny, but no words escaped him, and his narrowed eyebrows unfurrowed, a jarring look overcoming him - his eyes wandered, and briefly flickered back and forth from Thor’s face as he experienced what must have been an enlightening epiphany. It was like a double-take, and really, Thor may have found it to be highly amusing were it not for the circumstances.

Thor let out a sigh, giving his brother’s shoulder a squeeze.

“Go to bed, Loki, you need some rest, and I think a good night’s sleep will help bring some sense back to your mind. Your thoughts may appear a little less jumbled in the morning”, Thor told him,  _ because that’s what big brothers do. _

Thor may have enjoyed seeing Loki suffer the consequences of his actions throughout their childhood together, but he was not cruel. Loki’s turmoil was not funny, and his younger brother was too prideful to ask for advice or a helping hand.

Some battles could only be fought alone - but not this one. Thor knew what he needed to do, and that was why he approached Stark first thing the following morning, while Loki was sleeping -  _ hopefully soundly _ \- and asked for the details of Amelia’s home address.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope Loki's turmoil was written in a believable way. Please leave me a lovely comment my wonderful readers :D


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His hair was short and blond, a zig-zag pattern shaved into the sides of his head, and his beard looked coarse but majestic, neatly covering his chin and jaw - why did she feel like she had seen him somewhere before?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A nice long chapter for you all :P 
> 
> This time from Amelia's POV for the very first time :D

 

Amelia pulled the fuzzy blanket tighter around her shoulders, curling up into a ball of cosiness upon the couch as she tried her best to pay attention to the movie she was watching.

It was midday on a Tuesday and she  _ should  _ have been working - she should have showered, gotten dressed and left the apartment hours ago, but when she’d groggily come to that morning with a throbbing headache and a lack of will to move, she’d called in sick, positioned herself on the living room sofa and put her favourite childhood movie on in the hopes that it would ease the endless torment that was her life.

The familiar movie, it turned out, did nothing to cure Amelia of her woe, and the fact only upset her more - usually when she watched  _ The Prince of Egypt,  _ she was enraptured by its charm and magnificent animation, holding onto every word spoken and every gorgeously detailed scene, but today she felt utterly disconnected from reality. The film couldn’t hold her attention for more than twenty seconds before her mind wandered into self-deprecating territories.

She  _ should  _ have been working. She wasn’t ill enough to be granted time off, and she hated herself for picking up the phone and lying to her boss, pretending she was indisposed and unable to leave her bed when she could have knocked back some painkillers and forced her legs to carry her to work.

Now, she just felt useless and lazy, torturing herself with her thoughts because there were people in the world who could barely live off their monthly wage, who had to push themselves to work even when they were dreadfully unwell just so they didn’t lose money and end up starving, all the while Amelia was faking sick days with no financial consequences to worry about.

It made her feel like dirt.

The movie lasted an entire seven minutes and twenty four seconds before Amelia switched the television off.  _ What’s the point,  _ Amelia thought,  _ It’s not going to make me feel better. _

Nothing was going to make her feel better. 

Her stomach rumbled, demanding to be fed, and Amelia ruefully realised she’d skipped breakfast. Her eyes drifted to the kitchen that was roughly ten steps away from her current position, and she sighed, unable to muster up the determination to fix herself a meal.

Instead, she slumped down and laid across the sofa, pulling the blanket over her head to block out the sunlight. It was surprisingly sunny out - there was still a chill to the air, but the sky was bright blue and posed the illusion of a warm, summery day - the kind she used to spend outside, exploring the woods with her brother when she was young.

Those days were just a distant memory, no longer attainable with the life she led.

A wave of grief attacked her out of nowhere and she felt her chest seize up as a pitiful whimper escaped her lips. 

What was she  _ doing?  _ Was she really so pathetic that she ceased to function the moment something went wrong for her?

It had been the same for five years. They were the longest, loneliest years Amelia had ever experienced, and it had been  _ hell,  _ a persistent dread hanging over her wherever she went and whatever she did - nothing could mend it, and it wasn’t like she hadn’t  _ tried.  _ She had tried. She’d seen a therapist for the first year after Aaron had died, hoping she would learn how to cope better with her brother’s death, but  _ nothing had changed.  _

One session a week for a whole year had done nothing but drill a sense of hopeless monotony into Amelia’s mind, until she had finally informed her therapist that the appointments would not continue. Her therapist - a middle-aged man with greying hair, a patchy beard, and who always seemed to wear the exact same white-shirt, blue-vest combo - had tried his utmost to change her mind, telling her that she  _ needed  _ professional help, but his words had struck irrational anger in her mind.

_ I’ve been getting so-called professional help for a whole goddamn year with no results,  _ Amelia had wanted to say, but instead she had simply scurried away without a word, and hadn’t seen him since.

_ In retrospect, it probably hadn’t been such a great idea, but retrospect always made everything seem so obvious. _

Amelia thought surviving four years without the aid of a therapist was something admirable, as though it was proof she was strong and independent, but it wasn’t. It was proof that she was an idiot. It had became clear to her on a freezing night near the end of October that she should never have turned away from professional help - she should have sat down and really  _ thought  _ about why seeing a therapist hadn’t worked out, and she should have realised that her therapist might just not have been the best therapist there was. She should have started seeing a  _ different _ therapist, but she registered the fact too late.

She’d already made up her mind to kill herself.

So she had convinced her body to psyche itself up for one last visit to her brother’s grave; clutching a sprig of lilies, she had placed them down as a final apology and said  _ goodbye, bro, maybe I’ll see you soon. _

And then a curious stranger had given her a fright - an undeniably attractive man with pale skin that seemed flawless in the moonlight, long hair as black as the night, and prepossessing green eyes that were  _ just  _ the right shade of stunning. 

They’d shared words, and she learnt that his name was James. He was odd, and a little intimidating in his all black suit ensemble, but there was something irrefutably charming about him, and for the first time in five years, a smile had found its way to her face.

She had made a friend. 

It felt like a miracle, like fate had finally chosen to intervene, and it had gifted her with a cure for her loneliness; she latched on like a drowning woman to a life ring, and her relationship with James only blossomed.

Finally, at long last, Amelia felt herself again - like the missing piece of a puzzle had been placed, and she was experiencing a high that felt as though it might never end - her friendship with James developed into a crush, and she found herself giddy and bashful every time he came round, cleverly hiding her attraction because she was afraid that a confession would push him away. James didn’t at all seem like the type that would be enthusiastic for any sort of romantic relationship; he was reticent and wary, not at all zealous about physical contact or platonic affection.

And then they had danced together, and Amelia’s crush amplified to the point where she wasn’t entirely sure it was just a crush anymore, and in James’s gorgeous green eyes, she had seen what she assumed to be mutual desire.

In his eyes was a spark of need, and she’d been so sure he was going to kiss her.

But then he left in a hurry, and Amelia had been struck with a towering paranoia that made her think she’d screwed up somehow and frightened him off, or completely misinterpreted his feelings, and she’d drunk herself into despair.

When he returned, there was something different about him; he showed so openly that he cared about her, and Amelia felt like  _ quite _ an idiot for thinking anything less.

The first time they’d kissed had been wonderful, but the second time had been  _ utterly sensational.  _ James had met her lips with unbreaking passion, and it had quickly spiralled into something more - perfectly rewarding and wholeheartedly gratifying; Amelia really hadn’t expected him to be so  _ giving  _ in bed. Her mind had been blown.

Their trysts had continued, much to Amelia’s delight, and there was a specific moment when she knew she had fallen head over heels for the man. They’d been treading through a foam cube pit at the time in Amelia’s favourite trampoline park, he’d grabbed her around the waist and pulled her close, and that was when Amelia had become aware of the warm feeling in her soul.

She loved him. Her happiness was genuine. It was  _ real,  _ and it felt endless.

But all good things come to an end.

At once, her happiness had been crushed by colossal feelings of sadness, fear, anger,  _ betrayal  _ \- everything she’d built with James had come tumbling down and was replaced with a crash so detrimental that she had run as fast as her legs could carry her, away from the man who she’d fallen in love with -  _ the man who had killed her brother. _

James was not real, he was an invention. 

The denial had been immediate, because how could a man such as James - who showed her care and attentiveness, who held her like she was something infinitely precious - turn out to be a murderer. She didn’t want to believe it, her brain refused to let the thought sink in at first; she couldn’t comprehend James - sweet and funny, considerate and wonderful - as the mass-murderer he claimed to be.

_ Loki. Of Asgard. _

She’d reached her apartment after leaving him and booted up her laptop to explore the internet for the most crisp image she could find. Reaching the search engine, she typed in keywords from the event she’d tried so desperately to put out of her mind for years.

_ Loki, Chitauri invasion, New York 2012. _

All the photographs were grainy, taken in a rush from smart phones as people hurried to escape the terror that was being inflicted upon their city, and amongst the collection of indistinguishable images, she saw one that displayed more than enough confirmation. It was blurred, but she saw clearly his raven hair, sharp face, and familiar features.

It had been him all along.

The pain and anger had threatened to consume her, but Amelia had taught herself to keep breathing.

_ Roses, carnations, daffodils, hyacinth, orchids, tulips, peonies. _

A rough noise startled Amelia back to reality, and confusion wisped through her mind for a few moments before she remembered the morning, curled up like a caterpillar in a cocoon as she’d tried to watch her favourite movie -  _ how long had passed?  _ A quick glance to the clock revealed she’d been lying on the couch, lost in her thoughts for two hours.

Her stomach growled loudly, reminding her that she was starving, and she frowned, wondering if her belly had grumbled loud enough to startle her to consciousness. 

A clamorous knock at the door told her that that was not the case; fear sparked through her veins at the sound - the only person who ever knocked on her door with such harsh bangs was Ethan. 

Amelia was so sure she’d seen the last of him - surely he wouldn’t come back after the terror Loki had instilled in him? 

She stayed where she was, clutching the back of the sofa as she eyed the door with scrutiny, willing the person on the other side to give up and wander away - if it  _ was  _ Ethan then he would doubtlessly assume after a few minutes that she was working.  _ The creep knew her work schedule, for some reason. _

The next knock was accompanied with a voice.

“Hello? Is anybody home? I am here to speak with Amelia, there is something important I must discuss with her”, the voice called, slightly muffled, and Amelia bristled under the booming volume, and rich, powerful tone.

That was  _ not  _ Ethan. Ethan’s voice was grating and monotonous whereas the voice permeating through the door of her apartment was loud and regal. But then who was it, and why did they wish to speak with her?

Anxiousness flared uncomfortably in her chest at the mystery of the unexpected visitor; they knocked on the door yet again and it seemed they weren’t going to give up and leave her be given the urgency in their tone. Cautiously, Amelia rose to her feet and padded across the room to the front door - she waited for another round of pounding to end before she swung it open, summoning up the most deploring expression she could -  _ because she really didn’t take kindly to some stranger attempting to knock her door down  _ \- and faltered at what she saw.

The man before her was huge, and looked brawny enough to be able to squeeze her head between his thumb and forefinger if he so desired. Amelia swallowed, eyes flickering briefly over his torso which was covered with the stretched material of his hoodie - the poor garment was spread  _ taut  _ over his incredible muscles - and then to the red scarf wrapped nicely around his thick neck, and finally to his face, which held an ounce of familiarity that she couldn’t quite place. The black, leather patch over his right eye made him seem dangerous, but the wide smile that spread across his face implied the exact opposite was true.

“Hello”, the bearded man greeted, his bright, blue eye shining with friendliness, “I’m looking for Amelia Avery”, he peeked over her shoulder, scanning the room as if scouting for somebody.

Amelia scrunched her nose up with irritation at his impolite display, “I  _ am  _ Amelia”, she stood at her full height - which was comparable to that of a mouse in front of this man - and attempted to seem imposing, though the fact that she was nervously chewing at her bottom lip probably didn’t help enforce the image she wanted.

The man’s eyebrows shot up, and suddenly his scrutinising gaze was planted directly on her face; Amelia shifted self-consciously on her feet, hardly in a good state to be judged on her presentation - she had not yet showered that day, and was still dressed in her pyjamas - and took the time to stare at his own face, hoping to jog her memory on what it was about him that made her think she should know this man.

His hair was short and blond, a zig-zag pattern shaved into the sides of his head, and his beard looked coarse but majestic, neatly covering his chin and jaw -  _ why  _ did she feel like she had seen him somewhere before?

The man’s gaze travelled cautiously over her, taking in her appearance, an action that Amelia thought to be immeasurably rude, but finally he quirked an eyebrow, his smile a little more reserved and amiable.

“You’re different to what I expected”, the man spoke, and Amelia frowned, nothing but confusion filling her head.

“I’m sorry, but do I  _ know  _ you? What are you doing here and why do you need to talk with me?” She didn’t mean to sound so tight and discourteous, but she really wasn’t feeling up to the task of chatting with a strange man at the threshold of her apartment - she had better things to do,  _ like lie on her couch and wallow in piteous despair. _

A flicker of surprise became apparent in the man’s expression before his features softened with understanding, “Oh, my apologies. You must not recognise me without my hammer”, he said, and for a fleeting few seconds, Amelia thought the man insane, until he confirmed his identity in a rather dramatic fashion, “I’m Thor, God of Thunder!”

As Amelia comprehended his words, a wave of nausea washed over her, and she felt the blood drain from her face.

_ Thor, God of Thunder,  _ was standing at her door. One of the Avengers - a straight up  _ superhero _ \- was standing in front of her looking ridiculously  _ normal  _ in his hoodie, scarf and jeans, and Amelia almost didn’t believe it. She swallowed hard, her eyes scanning over the blond hair that she had always known to be long and flowing through the wind, even with a pretty little braid here and there - yes, she could see the resemblance now, even with the new hair style.

Thor acknowledged her long stare and ran a hand through his shorn locks, “Ah, yes, that is another thing”, a sheepish smile pulled at his face, “I suppose I no longer look much like you Midgardians knew me.”

Amelia hardly followed his words, too busy reeling from the fact that  _ Thor  _ was standing at her door; she cleared her throat, mouth falling open to say something -  _ anything _ \- but promptly lost her nerve, and stepped back, slamming the door in his face.

She pressed her back to the door, hand flying to her face to cover her mouth in an effort to stop herself from potentially throwing up - not that she had anything in her stomach  _ to  _ throw up - and an apprehensive groan escaped her as her hands began to shake.

_ Why was Thor knocking on her door?  _

Wait, strike that. Amelia had a glimmering notion of why the God of Thunder might be knocking at her door, and she was entirely sure it had something- no,  _ everything  _ to do with a certain God of Mischief.

Amelia felt her skin crawl, she couldn’t imagine what had happened to Loki the day before after he left her home - after she had demanded he leave and never come back - but if his brother was here, then it couldn’t have been good. Had Loki hurt someone out of anger? Was Thor here to blame  _ her  _ for making Loki furious?  _ Surely the Avengers couldn’t blame her for anyone Loki had harmed in a rage? _

There was a tentative knock on the door behind her, this time far lighter and considerate, followed by Thor’s voice, “Ah, Amelia? My lady?” he sounds unsure of himself, “I apologise if I startled you in some way, but I really must speak with you. Will you please open the door?”

Amelia remained frozen for another few seconds, weighing her thoughts against each other; Thor didn’t  _ sound  _ like he was there to reprimand her for anything she might’ve done or said to set Loki off, but she couldn’t think of any other reason the God of Thunder would personally come to see her.

“I would just like to speak with you”, Thor tried again, his muffled voice made abundantly clear by his articulate accent, and Amelia forced herself to breathe, trying to convince herself that Thor was there for a more vindictive reason instead - that perhaps he just wanted to ask her a few respectful questions about what was said between her and Loki, maybe even get a statement and her side of the story - although, that sounded more like police work, and Amelia wasn’t sure the Avengers did things like that. They were superheroes, not detective inspectors; the Avengers were all about punching down the bad guys, right?

_ She wasn’t the bad guy,  _ so why was the immortal God, who liked very much to punch the bad guys and even occasionally zap them with lightning, standing just outside?

“Lady Amelia, are you still there?”

Amelia let out a sigh of resignation and reluctantly opened the door up again, facing the sinewy man with false nerve; he had a small frown on his face that made Amelia feel a little guilty for almost hitting him with the door - not that it would’ve done much damage to him, the door would’ve probably been destroyed on impact - and she nibbled at her lip for the few seconds of silence that ensued before standing aside and allowing him entry.

The smile returned to his face immediately, and Amelia couldn’t shake the notion that he reminded her very much of golden retriever dog - all that was missing was a wagging tail.  _ Wow,  _ Amelia thought,  _ I’ve officially lost it. I’m comparing an otherworldly being to an excitable puppy. _

“Thank you”, Thor stated politely as he slipped past her and traipsed on into her living room, glancing around the place to take in his surroundings.

“Can I… um, get you something to drink? Some tea, maybe?” Amelia enquired awkwardly as she closed the door and followed after him, unsure of how to treat this man who was practically a celebrity. She shuffled nervously from foot to foot as he regarded her again with a cordial look.

“Oh, I don’t drink tea”, he told her, but didn’t suggest anything else, so Amelia timidly pressed for an answer.

“What would you like to drink?”

The man looked thoughtful for a moment, “Do you have any ale?”

Amelia fidgeted with her fingers, “I don’t have any alcohol, sorry…” and it made her feel reprehensible to not be able to serve the superhero exactly what he wanted to drink, surely he must have thought her uncouth for being so ill-prepared for his unexpected arrival - she wanted to slap herself for having thrown away the remainder of the red wine, because that probably would’ve been better than nothing.

“Not a problem”, Thor assured her, “How about coffee?”

Now  _ that  _ she could make, and she enthusiastically nodded her head before scurrying off into the kitchen, creating what was hopefully a tasty beverage fit for a God - and then, of course, once she handed it to him, she realised she’d never actually asked how he liked his coffee, and inwardly scolded herself as she sat down on the couch, hoping he enjoyed his coffee with milk and two sugars.

Thor, who had elected to sit in one of the firmer dining chairs as opposed to the sofa, did not show any outward disgust after he took his first sip of the scalding hot coffee, which Amelia took as a positive note - then again, the man could’ve just been  _ really  _ good at hiding his revulsion for too-sweet coffee. Amelia felt the need to ask.

“Is it good?”

Thor smiled, “It tastes fine, thank you”, and Amelia breathed a sigh of relief.

A silence broke out, Amelia did not know what else to say to the man, but thankfully it was as if Thor could sense the tension in her shoulders and endeavoured to soothe her apparent consternation over his presence and the situation as a whole.

“You have a pleasant home”, Thor commented, his eyes scanning over the impeccably clean surfaces, the tidiness of the bookcase and the general positioning of the fine furniture - and Amelia felt a miniscule swell of pride, she  _ had _ spent a good portion of the night scrubbing the floor where the wine had spilt, and then rearranged her books and the contents of her cabinets for good measure. Come to think of it, that’s probably why she woke up feeling about as far from well-rested as humanly possible.

“Thank you”, Amelia spoke meekly, hoping she could summon up even the tiniest slice of enthusiasm to make the circumstances a little more tolerable, but Thor was trying, and she appreciated that. “I like your scarf. It’s nice”, Amelia added as an afterthought, feeling compelled to offer the man a compliment in return - and it really was a nice scarf, fitting snugly around his neck, eye-catching with it’s tremendously bright red colour.

Thor gave a quiet chuckle, “It is, isn’t it? A gift from my brother, actually. I think, deep down, I’m still waiting for it to come to life and suffocate me when I least expect it.”

Amelia swallowed worriedly, her eyes flicking nervously to the garment, and Thor’s cheeks turned a little pink at her unamused reaction, “Ah, I’m just jesting, of course”, and he quickly took another sip of his coffee to hide his fluster.  _ She wasn’t entirely convinced he  _ **_was_ ** _ just jesting. _

It was quite a funny sight actually, to see such a huge, bulky man sat so reservedly in the little dining chair, holding onto a little mug of coffee -  _ the dining chair and mug of coffee were, in fact, regular sized, but they just seemed so comically small when placed within view of the God of Thunder _ \- and eventually, Amelia did find herself growing used to the superhero’s company, relaxing a little more on the couch and not clutching her blanket so tightly around her shoulders.

Surprisingly, it was Amelia who brought up the subject of Thor’s visit.

“I suppose you’re here to talk about… um, about-” She sighed inwardly, hating herself for being unable to speak the name that had caused her so much torment.  _ Grow up,  _ she told herself,  _ ‘fear of the name only increases fear of the thing itself’,  _ and Amelia couldn’t help but roll her eyes at the fact that her mind was supplying  _ Harry Potter  _ quotes in an attempt to placate her.

“Yes, I’m here to talk about Loki”, Thor saved her the distress and confirmed her thoughts, an apologetic edge to his stern expression, and Amelia felt another wave of trepidation hit her, dropping her gaze to nod her head apprehensively.

“Did he… hurt someone?” Amelia asked, swallowing thickly around the lump in her throat, knowing how hot Loki’s blood had been boiling the night before when he left with a frighteningly glazed look in his eyes.

Thor blinked, his eye widening minutely, “No, not at all”, he answered, and Amelia was engulfed in relief for all of three seconds, “Unless you count himself.”

Amelia stilled, an uncomfortable sinking feeling in her stomach that she strove desperately to ignore, “What do you mean?” Her question came out a little high-pitched than she meant it to.

A troubled look passed over Thor’s face briefly before he hid it behind a more sympathetic expression, smiling sadly at Amelia, “Last night, when he returned to the tower, he was… ah, not in a good state of mind. He wanted to spar with me, so I accepted, because he looked as though he had a few things he needed to work out in his head, and it is probably better he take his frustrations out on me rather than anyone else”, he frowned, harbouring an almost shameful look as he recalled the events of the previous night, “He goaded me to the point where I lost my temper, and I- well, I hurt him… not intentionally, I must say, but I think… I think he  _ wanted  _ me to hurt him.”

Amelia’s head hung low so as not to meet the man’s gaze, and she brought her hand to her face, biting at her fingertips distractedly. She would  _ not  _ feel sorry for Loki. She refused. After what he had done, he did not deserve pity and Amelia did not deserve to feel guilty about sending him away.

Still, the niggling feeling of upset prodded at her mind.

“Is he alright?” Amelia asked out of reflex, though she tried to make her voice sound disinterested and casual with a little pinch of sarcasm on the side.

There was a glimmer of gratitude on Thor’s face, like he was thankful that she’d bothered to enquire about Loki’s wellbeing, and assuredly stated, “His injuries will heal quickly with rest, and I believe he is sleeping right now. At least, he  _ should  _ be. His body was purged of all energy, I think he was probably asleep before his head hit the pillow last night - and I would know, I practically had to carry him to his room”, amusement shone in his eye, “He was not happy about that.”

Amelia could not rally up the will to smile over Thor’s words as he probably expected, and when it became clear from the permanent frown on her face that she wasn’t going to even pretend to find anything of the situation entertaining, Thor sighed with endurance, nodding his head like he somehow knew that Amelia wished he would hurry up and say what he came to say.  _ The suspense was killing her. _

“Alright, I will not dulcify the cause for my visit. Amelia, I have come here to ask that you allow Loki another chance.” His tone was resolute and his eye contact did not waver, as though he believed what he was asking was completely and utterly within reason.

Amelia’s lips parted in disbelief at the man’s request, and a bitter laugh strained its way from her throat, “Is that what this is? Loki went whining to his brother for help because he royally fucked himself over?” Thor’s brow narrowed at her words, and suddenly she wasn’t too worried about appearing unmannerly in his presence, “He made you come and try to convince me to forgive him? Is that right?”

Thor’s grim expression held and his stare seemed almost stern, “No, Amelia. Loki does not know I am here. I came of my own accord, and for good reason.”

She shook her head dismissively, “Do you  _ know  _ what he did, Thor?” she snapped, shoving back the detestable emotions that welled up with her resentment - she hated that her instinctive reaction from her own anger was to cry. Amelia did not wait for Thor to answer her, “He killed my brother!”

The way Thor lowered his head and looked up from below his brow with an apologetic look only served to make Amelia’s blood boil hotter, “I understand that, but-”

“No, I don’t think you do understand”, she interrupted, swallowing thickly as she clutched the material of her blanket tightly in her fists, “Look, you  _ care _ about your brother, I can see that plain as day, but you’re not seeing things from my perspective. Let me put this in a way you’ll understand-” she didn’t care that she sounded incredibly condescending - she’d been on the receiving end many times in her life and now a man was attempting to dictate how she should feel - she wasn’t feeling particularly amicable after everything she’d been through, “If somebody killed Loki in cold blood and then expected to be forgiven, would you be so quick let them off the hook?”

A breath of restrained exasperation passed Thor’s lips and his gaze softened with sympathy, “No, I wouldn’t, but-”

_ “No,  _ you wouldn’t. Exactly.” Amelia said tersley, blinking rapidly to discourage any tears.

“Amelia”, Thor spoke firmly, but not unkindly, “Will you please allow me to speak?”

Amelia gnashed her teeth together, glaring hard at the floor, before nodding her head in confirmation - she would give the God of Thunder the opportunity to reiterate and choose his words carefully, but she knew she had every right to kick him out of her apartment if he upset her again.

Thor’s head dipped respectfully and he continued to speak where he left off before Amelia’s intervention, “Last night, Loki wore his heart on his sleeve. That is practically unheard of - we aren’t very good with communication as you might have guessed - but I saw the remorse in his eyes. You have to believe me, he is penitent. I just need you to give him a chance to prove it.”

_ Penitent. Remorseful.  _ Amelia bit her lip to stop from crying. Loki’s regret over his tyrannical actions was not something Amelia could visualise - she had seen grainy footage of the man causing death and destruction without even a hint of contrition - it was difficult to even imagine somebody could come back from that.

Amelia gave an almost frantic shake of her head, denial plain on her face, “He- he’s a  _ murderer…” _

Thor’s hopeful look faltered at her utterance, and his gaze became further imploring, “Amelia, when Loki and I grew up together, while he may have had a knack for mischief, he was never a murderer”, his mouth opened and closed for a moment as he looked for the right words, “During the invasion, I… fought him alone, just the two of us, and I tried to get through to him - there was a point where I thought I had succeeded but… it was as if something clouded his mind. I’m not entirely sure he was in full control of himself that day.”

It was difficult to look Thor directly in the eyes when his expression was so beseeching, as if willing her to understand his perspective, “What are you saying?” she whispered.

Thor swallowed, “I’m saying… he was lost, but now, he is finding his way back. Looking for redemption.”

A mirthless huff escaped Amelia’s lips, “And how do you know it’s not just one of his tricks? How do you know the things he told you last night were sincere and honest, that they were his real feelings? I understand he has a reputation for not being completely genuine”, there was scorn in her words, “How can you possibly know what were lies and what was the truth?”

Thor’s stare was contemplative of her question, but he seemed so sure of himself and his determination did not fluctuate; he was merely searching for a way to convince Amelia of Loki’s  _ true  _ feelings. Finally, he blinked, his tone wholly serious, “My brother…” he paused momentarily, as if there was something important he wanted to say, but held his tongue at the last moment and changed his words, “My brother cares about you. This, I know to be true.”

Amelia felt her heart jump at the conviction of his declaration, but bit back on the rising emotions so as not to let them cloud her judgement, “But how do you  _ know?” _

She could tell her refusal to trust Thor’s statement brought him a lot of frustration, it was particularly evident in his furrowed brow, though he appeared to keep a good hand on his irritation - perhaps he did realise how tough it was for Amelia to simply take his word as gospel.

“He was…  _ happy _ when he was with you - I mean, the past few months, I have seen the difference in him, even if he did not acknowledge it himself”, a slight smile pulled at Thor’s lips, “He was more tolerable of my teasing - that’s one thing I noticed… it felt like how things  _ used  _ to be, when we were children”, he squinted slightly, “Am I making sense?”

Amelia said nothing, but her eyes momentarily slipped closed, a fluttering sensation of compassion burning in her chest in response to the yearning sound of his voice. It was clear that both Thor and Loki had gone through some serious trials and tribulations, and right now she could see, Thor  _ missed  _ the sibling chemistry between himself and his brother. Well, Amelia could empathise with  _ missing the good old days,  _ that was certain. 

“But now”, Thor continued, “I have not seen Loki so… broken… since our mother died.”

A deep surge of sadness set upon Amelia, and the realisation that she’d jumped the gun became apparent - she had assumed everything Loki had told her during their times together was all part of his deception, to earn her trust, as a way to gain her empathy through his fabrications. She never considered the possibility that Loki had actually been admitting very real things to her when he spoke of the hardships of his childhood.

“So, all the things he told me… about your mother’s death and - and the destruction of your home… that was true?” She asked guardedly, and surprise flashed briefly through Thor’s eyes, before he nodded.

“It is true. I don’t know exactly what he shared with you, but… yes, they were not lies. Our mother was killed-” pain flashed over his face and Amelia’s heart lurched in understanding, “I saw it happen… I was too late to stop it. Asgard was destroyed - it was for the sake of our people, ah, it’s complicated… but these events have greatly troubled Loki, and naturally, he has a lot weighing on his shoulders. But, I believe…” there was a precariousness in his voice as he wavered, “I think Loki wants to be accepted.” There was doubt in his tone that Amelia hung onto with skepticism, but there was also faith and optimism.

Amelia sniffed and cleared her throat, “If he wants to be  _ accepted,  _ then firstly he needs to  _ change.” _

Thor held her stare, and then spoke with the utmost certitude, “He  _ has  _ changed. I have witnessed it. He is not the heartless, emotionless killer you believe him to be.”

Amelia nodded with reluctance, showing that she acknowledged Thor’s words, and the feeling of shame sprouted inside her; she was conflicted. Her brain told her that she should be inexorably merciless to Loki’s situation - she owed him nothing, not after the pain he had caused her and thousands of others, not after the innocent lives he had taken. But another part of her compelled her to show some heart, that her judgement was skewered by a grudge - that while her anger and tears were valid, she had to offer Loki  _ one more chance _ to make things right.

“I know this is hard for you”, Thor spoke, “I see that you are hurting. But I assure you, Loki is too.”

The need to wrap herself up in a blanket cocoon was very prominent, and the headache mixed with her stomach’s protest at the lack of food made her lethargic.

“Please think about what I have told you”, the God of Thunder implored, “If you change your mind, you are welcome to come to Avengers Tower.”

Thor left the apartment, and Amelia mulled over what had been said as she finally made herself a sandwich to placate her empty, aching belly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know y'all are dying for Amelia and Loki to come together again but hey, you know what they say... absence makes the heart grow stronger.
> 
> Can't wait to see all your comments, lovelies! <3


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The guard cracked a smile that was, unfortunately, completely mocking in nature, “Lady, if you were invited by Thor, then I’m the Queen of England”, he ridiculed, and Amelia breathed a sigh, pondering whether it had even crossed Thor’s mind that she wouldn’t be able to just waltz into the headquarters of the most famed superheroes in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Conflict ahoy :)
> 
> Sorry this chapter is a day later than usual! BUT ON THE PLUS SIDE!!! It's the longest chapter yet!!!

Six days on, and a tiring war still waged within Amelia’s mind.

She pushed through work all week, despite the metaphorical grey clouds looming prominently above her head, forcing a smile to her lips in the face of customers and colleagues to give the illusion of joyfulness that, in reality, was so far from her grasp. Not even the seemingly endless supply of deep red roses in and around the florist was enough to bring a little colour to her monotonous mood, and simply hearing people talk about their partners -  _ as Valentine’s Day approached  _ \- was enough to bring that horrible lump to her throat.

Another lonely day that would once again remind her of how isolated and friendless she truly was. It didn’t have to be about not having somebody to hold and cherish - Amelia had simply wished this year she could have, at the very least, spent Valentine’s Day with a friend.

_ So much for that,  _ Amelia thought bitterly as she trudged past another shop window adorned with red and pink decorations reminding everyone that that sweet, romantic event was only two days away. She kept her head down, eyes heavy on the grey pavement below her feet just so she could avoid the sight of heart-shaped balloons, discount sales on heart-shaped boxes of chocolate, heart-shaped  _ anything. _

She just needed to buy some milk, but everywhere she looked, she was assaulted by the clear, plain fact that she couldn’t have what most others had - companionship, be it familial, romantic or platonic, there was nobody in her life who  _ cared. _

The sun shone brightly, as if mocking her as she stepped into the little corner shop a few minutes walk from her apartment building, and she made a point to ignore everyone she passed, making a beeline straight to the refrigerated aisle so she could get a goddamn carton of milk and  _ leave. _

But of course, thanks to the bright weather and the upcoming romantic holiday, some people were just a bit  _ too  _ cheerful, as Amelia quickly discerned the moment she went to purchase her milk carton.

“Hey there”, the young woman at the counter greeted with a wide smile, “Would you like to sample some Valentine’s chocolate?” she motioned with a wave of her hand to the plate of little strawberry-filled candies sitting irreproachable on the checkout counter.

_ ‘No, I absolutely do not want a goddamn Valentine’s chocolate, so will you SHUT UP about Valentine’s Day’,  _ was what Amelia  _ wanted  _ to say, but instead of causing an unnecessary scene, she simply shook her head rigidly and held out a few dollar notes, wishing the woman would just take the money and be done with it.

Amelia didn’t miss the odd look the young woman gave her, but in all honesty, Amelia did not care; she was too detached in her own mind to make an effort to appear pleasant - which was saying something, since Amelia always strove to come across as cordial even when she did not feel it. Just because she was drowning in gloom, it did not mean that she had to drag everybody else down with her - but today, well, she just couldn’t be bothered. Forcing herself to smile through the pain was more effort than it was worth at this point.

So she took her milk and plodded back to her apartment building, rode the elevator to her floor and exited into the hallway, all with the emotional energy of a cactus - the only time she did feel a hint of a reaction was when she saw the door of Ethan’s apartment swing open. She stilled, heart pounding from fear of the disgusting man, and Ethan seemed to freeze as he too caught sight of her.

No words were spoken; Ethan swallowed, and disappeared back into his apartment, apparently abandoning the reason for leaving it in the first place. Amelia exhaled a breath and tentatively approached the door to her own home, afraid that Ethan’s quick departure was just a ruse, and that he would jump back out at any moment and lay his filthy hands on her again; she twisted the key in the lock and entered her home as quickly as humanly possible, shutting the door tight behind her before she could once again relax.

That was one good thing, she supposed, the  _ only  _ good thing Loki had done right - Ethan was too terrified to even glance her way, and Amelia felt a small prickle of satisfaction at seeing him scuttle away at the sight of her like a frightened child.

Amelia made herself a cup of tea with the aid of her newly-purchased milk and sat down amongst her nest of blankets upon the sofa, trying desperately to put herself in a happy place as opposed to the bleak apartment that continued to hold remnants what was once a warm and friendly presence.

Looking across to the vacant side of the sofa, Amelia gave an almost inaudible sigh, the rising steam of the hot tea she held to her lips causing her glasses to fog up, and she was ashamed the feel a thrum of wistful longing for what she had had with  _ ‘James’.  _ She pulled her misty glasses from her face, rubbing her eyes with her thumb and forefinger to try and force the heartache to dissipate. It was frustrating that she couldn’t push the idea of  _ James  _ from her head - he didn’t exist, but it was as if her brain refused to acknowledge that fact, and instead imagined  _ James  _ as a separate entity from Loki.

Another sigh left her, this time loud and exasperated.  _ They were the same person,  _ and yet the notion that Loki had done all those things - made her feel like she was wanted, comforted her through hard times, danced with her, brought a smile to her face when she felt otherwise hopeless, kissed her and held her like a lover -  _ it did not seem plausible.  _ How could a man so sinister and wicked as Loki be so…  _ compassionate and tender? _

She could still smell him - traces of his scent emerging from the couch or the bedsheets, no matter how much she tried to wash it away - and it pained her all the more. It was a soft and sweet peppermint aroma that reminded her of the candy she loved to consume as a child - a time when life was so much simpler and less dire, when she had her mother and her brother to help her spirits soar. It reminded her of how it felt to have somebody around who well and truly  _ cared. _

Amelia pinched the bridge of her nose, exhaling out the bubbling emotions. There was no use in crying, it only brought her a throbbing headache, and besides, she had shed enough tears for  _ Loki. _

_ I see that you are hurting. But I assure you, Loki is too. _

Thor’s words echoed in her mind and Amelia shook her head. She tried to imagine Loki in the same pathetic position as her, curled up in a blanket, moping endlessly in seclusion, unable to think about anything but encapsulating loneliness, but she just couldn’t picture it, and the thought, much to her chagrin, disappointed her. She wanted to see Loki hurt, wanted to see him as broken-hearted as she felt, and it made her feel like a terrible,  _ terrible  _ person.

_ Please think about what I have told you. If you change your mind, you are welcome to come to Avengers Tower. _

But why did  _ she _ have to come to  _ him?  _ It should’ve been Loki who was chasing after her, pleading for forgiveness. 

_ Oh,  _ Amelia thought, eyes widening,  _ he already had.  _

He’d spent a whole week following her, probably thinking of some way to earn reprieve, and when he finally had shown himself and fallen to his knees, literally  _ begging  _ for a chance to speak, she had silenced him and sent him away - and he had, respectfully, obeyed her wishes.

Amelia’s eyes slipped closed. Her anger had felt justified then, she’d felt as though he did not deserve another moment of her time - but now, she just felt irritably unjust. Was it unfair of her to deny Loki a chance to apologise for his wrongdoings? The more she mulled over Thor’s words, the more her initial decision seemed to dwindle with each passing moment.

It was exhausting to overthink it. Amelia was not hateful by nature, and holding grudges was incredibly taxing -  _ she knew that from personal experience with her father _ \- but at the same time, she could not foresee herself ever pardoning Loki’s past actions. In her eyes, Loki did not deserve her forgiveness, and mere words could never sway her resolution.

_ Tomorrow,  _ Amelia figured,  _ I’ll decide tomorrow morning. _  
  


* * *

 

 

Amelia awoke early on Tuesday morning, opening her eyes to her quiet, empty apartment that seemed desaturated to her gloomy mind. The usually vivid colours of her room seemed dulled regardless of the bright light flooding through the gaps in her curtains, and Amelia chewed idly on her bottom lip for several minutes before coming to a decision.

Her work shift didn’t start until after noon, so Amelia had plenty of time to take a trip to Avengers Tower before work - and she used her time wisely, spending about an hour pacing up and down her living room as she built up the courage to actually push herself out of the apartment and towards her destination.

Despite being resolute in her choice to allow Loki a chance to apologise, she still found herself oscillating on the sidewalk across from the huge building that was widely known as the headquarters of the Avengers. Her teeth grinded together of their own accord as she dwelled on her thoughts, purposely stalling as long as possible - she didn’t want Loki to think her appearance meant he was being let off easy, and she steeled herself in preparation. Just because she was giving Loki the opportunity to express his remorse did not mean Amelia was going to absolve him of his past transgressions.

It would take far more than a simple apology from Loki for Amelia to exonerate him - she would not just give in,  _ she wouldn’t.  _ Loki owed her so much more than that.

And whatever might happen in the looming tower, Amelia would  _ not  _ cry.

_ I will not allow myself to display such a weakness,  _ she thought as she swallowed any lingering doubts, and made her way towards the premise.

There were security guards posted at the front entrance of the building, and Amelia faltered in her step, wondering how exactly she was supposed to get past them. Had Thor alerted them that she might possibly come by? If so, then how were they supposed to identify her - they didn’t know what she looked like, they didn’t have records on her,  _ did they? _

Amelia swallowed nervously and approached the glass doors, her steps hesitant as she closed in - and then, predictably, she was stopped by one of the security men.

“Sorry, lady. Authorised personnel only, you’re gonna have to turn around”, the man told her in a very rehearsed tone, and Amelia frowned.

“Um, well… I was kind of invited… by Thor?” Amelia had to admit, she probably wouldn’t even have believed herself if she was in the security guard’s shoes.

The guard cracked a smile that was, unfortunately, completely mocking in nature, “Lady, if you were invited by Thor, then I’m the Queen of England”, he ridiculed, and Amelia breathed a sigh, pondering whether it had even crossed Thor’s mind that she wouldn’t be able to just waltz into the headquarters of the most famed superheroes in the world.

“It’s true”, Amelia murmured in a soft voice, knowing there was no hope of this man believing her words.

The guard snorted, “Alright, what’s your name, lady?”

Amelia wasn’t sure whether the man’s intentions were genuine or if he was asking for her name for the simple sake of proving her wrong, but she answered him nonetheless, “Amelia Avery.”

He tapped a button on the wall behind him and input some sort of code before speaking into the intercom, “F.R.I.D.A.Y, is there an appointment scheduled for Amelia Avery?”

There was a beeping noise which was promptly followed by a woman’s voice, articulate and executive, “No appointment is scheduled, however, Miss Amelia Avery has been authorised admission by Thor.”

Amelia’s lips formed a small simper, a slight swell of gratification at seeing the security guard’s smug smirk drop from his face, and the man cleared his throat, stepping aside to open the door for her while forcing an impassive look onto his face.

“Thanks, your majesty”, Amelia felt bold enough to taunt the man as she slipped on into the building, eyeing the reception area with curiosity. It was weird, the Avengers Tower foyer looked a lot like the lobby of any corporate building, instilling a sense of professionalism about the place; though looks could be deceiving, she supposed. Amelia realised very abruptly that she was interested in seeing what the nerve centre of a superhero main office looked like - would it be like in the movies where there was a big screen that would flash in emergency whenever one of the heroes was needed, and a person of high authority - probably the president - would appear on the monitor and relay the details of an important mission? Would there needlessly be little blinky buttons and dials spread about everywhere for no reason whatsoever?

_ Did they have, like, a Bat-Signal? Or whatever Iron Man’s equivalent was? _

“Can I help you?” 

Amelia looked up at the desk, a slight flush colouring her cheeks as she realised she’d been staring at her surroundings while imagining rather ridiculous thoughts, and the receptionist woman at the desk was now watching her with a very suspicious look.

“Um, yeah, sorry - I’m looking for, uh, Thor”, Amelia stammered, wondering if she needed to prove her identity and her right to be present again, but instead of drilling Amelia for her reason of being there, the woman simply pointed to the shiny-looking elevator at the end of the hall.

“You want floor twelve”, the receptionist responded, wasting no time on getting back to her paperwork, and Amelia blinked, nodding her head despite the fact the woman was no longer looking her way, and she made her way tentatively to the metallic doors and pressed the call-elevator button on the wall.

It was a long, drawn-out ascent to the twelfth floor and it gave Amelia all the time in the world to anxiously straighten out her clothes and fiddle with the chaotic mop of curls atop her head; she didn’t want to appear tacky and grubby in front of one of the richest men in the world -  _ if Tony Stark was home, that is  _ \- and she certainly didn’t want to give Thor the impression that she always looked like a downright mess.

When the lift doors opened again, Amelia swallowed apprehensively and stepped out into the slightly curved hallway. The corridor trailed off both left and right and Amelia found herself at an impasse, unsure of which way she was supposed to go and completely unwilling to pick a direction and hope for the best.

She stood still, shifting from one foot to the other as she looked back and forth, beginning to wish she had just stayed home - she felt, regardless of being personally invited, that she was trespassing.

_ Did Thor know she was here? Had he been notified? _

She really didn’t want to run into Loki without first finding his brother - that would just be far too awkward and upsetting. Amelia didn’t want to admit it, but she needed reassurance, and Thor seemed like the type of person who was always overflowing with it.

“You came!”

Amelia swung round, slightly startled by the voice, but ultimately filled with a sense of relief once she identified its owner; Thor stood across from her, wearing some sort of black, leather vest which made his bulging muscles look all the more impressive - he honestly looked like he could bench press a building with arms like that - and Amelia meekly waved a hand in greeting, breathing a sigh at the sight of his hopeful smile.

“Uh, yeah…” she murmured, an audible waver in her voice, and Thor must’ve heard it, because his beaming expression became a little more controlled and he pointed his thumb down the hallway behind him.

“Would you like something to drink?” He offered, just like she had when he’d turned up unannounced at her own apartment, and Amelia gave the muscular man an amused little smile, nodding her head as she recognised his attempt to ease her blatantly obvious nerves.

“Sure.”

The God of Thunder lead her to a large room which seemed to be a lounge, kitchen and bar all in one - similar to what she had except much bigger and fancier. Amelia didn’t know why she had assumed the Avengers wouldn’t live like regular people when they weren’t fighting crime; their main quarters was essentially akin to the grandest apartment she had ever seen - it was really quite immaculate and refined.  _ Surprisingly homely. _

It turned out that Thor did not know how to make tea, as he so sheepishly admitted, and instead he very kindly offered her a  _ ‘sugary fizzy drink’  _ in its place; Amelia found herself unable to hide a smile when he handed her a Sprite, and also proceeded to chug one of his own.

“Thank you for coming”, Thor told her, attempting to sound casual, but Amelia could tell he was genuinely pleased at her presence, and she bit her lip skittishly, hoping that Thor wasn’t under the impression things would just magically become fine because of it. 

“Mm”, she mumbled, hiding her agitation by taking a sip of her soda, “And, um, how is Loki?” 

She asked because she was curious, not because she was worried; Amelia wanted to know if Thor had witnessed anymore remorseful behaviour from the God of Mischief - anything that might imply he was authentically guilt-ridden over what he had done, as opposed to putting on an act just to lure her into a false sense of security.

“I have hardly seen him”, Thor spoke, “He has stayed in his room this week - has not wished to spar - but I believe he sneaks down here for food when everybody else is asleep… so that is good, at least.” 

Thor did not seem overly worried by Loki’s conduct, and Amelia supposed it was because Loki was, at the very least, not partaking in any self-destructive activities as his brother had implied a week ago.

“I see”, Amelia muttered, “so, I’m guessing he hasn’t-”

_ “I can’t believe this!” _

Amelia jumped at the volume with which the exclamation came from the entrance to the room, swiftly cutting off what she had been about to say as  _ the _ Tony Stark,  _ Iron Man himself,  _ marched into the room with a rather disgruntled look upon his face; Amelia froze in place, hoping that her presence wasn’t the reason for the man’s aggrieved manner - he didn’t exactly know she would be there.

“They’re  _ all  _ sold out-  _ all of them!” _ the billionaire went on to say, a hint of panic around the edges of his voice, not paying Amelia or Thor a smidgen of attention as another man followed him into the room with a hint of amusement colouring his face.

“Perhaps you shouldn’t have left it till the last minute”, said the second man - and Amelia was sure she had seen him before  _ somewhere,  _ his face was familiar to an extent, with his stubbly chin and slightly greying hair, but as with Thor initially, Amelia couldn’t place her finger on it. Unlike Tony, the other man seemed to notice her immediately, and his gaze flickered to Thor questioningly, who simply smiled in response.

“Why didn’t you  _ remind me _ it was Valentine’s Day tomorrow?” Tony groaned, tapping away viciously at his smartphone as he wandered around the kitchen island, “Pepper is going to kill me for forgetting -  _ oh,  _ the the wedding’s gonna be off, I just know it- why is there exactly  _ zero  _ roses left in New York?”

That certainly explained a lot; Tony Stark must’ve gotten caught up in his work - and Amelia imagined a man like him to be quite involved with his inventions, working on his metal suit, and such - and had completely forgotten to buy roses for his fiancee, as was the staple of the speedily approaching romantic holiday.

But surely the world-renowned CEO was being just a little bit too dramatic? 

“Pepper is not going to call off the wedding because you forgot to buy her roses, Tony”, the other man assured him, sounding much more rational, confirming Amelia’s suspicions that Tony was just overreacting.

“She’s going to have words with me”, Tony lamented, and Amelia felt an amused smile pulling at her lips - she never would’ve guessed this man, who always appeared so cool, calm and collected at various press junkets, would have been an ultimate drama-queen when there weren’t any cameras on him.

“You could get her different flowers, Tony”, the other man suggested, his tone soft and attesting, as though he were trying to bring assurance to a nervous child - and it was a good idea, overall. When Amelia had left work the previous day, they had been down to their last shipment of roses - it wasn’t beyond the realm of possibilities that they had all been purchased that morning - but there were plenty of other beautiful flowers that could convey all the loving intentions of the signature Valentine’s bloom.

Tony did not seem to approve of this idea,  _ “Different  _ flowers? Pepper is going to kill me, nothing can save me. She’s going to have my head”, he shook his head, continuing to search hopelessly on his phone for anywhere nearby that might still have roses to sell, and then, with a hint of defeat, “What kind of different flowers?”

“You could get her carnations”, Amelia spoke for the first time since they’d entered the room, feeling very much that this was her subject of expertise, but when Tony Stark flung around and landed his surprised and inquisitive gaze on her, she suddenly felt nothing but  _ regret  _ at having opened her mouth.

Tony blinked rapidly, looking her up and down, before glancing to Thor and the other man, searching for some sort of confirmation as to why she was there. Instead of questioning her presence out loud, he cocked his head, “Carnations, huh?”

Amelia could feel the heat rising from her cheeks and took a twitchy sip of her soda, nodding her head in affirmation, “Carnations, yeah. They’re, um, they’re romantic and- they’re beautiful flowers”, she looked down, biting the inside of her cheek.

Tony stepped closer, as did the other man with his hands in his pockets, and arched an eyebrow, assessing her closely, before turning to the God of Thunder, “Thor, why is Rainbow Brite sitting in my living room drinking my soda?”

Amelia’s mouth fell open, her cheeks flushing red from an entirely different reason now, and she looked down at her attire with indignation - purple jeans, red and pink striped shirt and flowy dark blue cardigan - then thought,  _ yeah, actually, that’s fair,  _ and pouted with embarrassment at the nickname she’d been assigned.

Thor was unconcerned, and tilted his head towards her as he addressed Tony with a knowing smile, “This is Amelia”, was all he said, and Tony’s eyebrows shot up in surprise; Amelia abruptly felt very small as all eyes turned to her, and she mused on just how much they all knew about her. 

Surely Loki hadn’t spoken to them about her? He did not seem like the type to relay all the private pieces of the relationship they had shared, but if the mere mention of her first name was enough to elicit such a reaction, then they must’ve known exactly who she was.

The billionaire looked her up and down in much the same way Thor had the first time they met, before a crooked smile formed on his face, “Well… you’re quite different to what I expected.”

Amelia frowned -  _ why did she keep hearing that? _

“And what  _ did  _ you expect?” She enquired, pinning Tony with a pointed look, to which a spark of amusement became apparent on his face and he hummed curiously.

“Less colour, more drab”, Tony answered swiftly, “nice to meet you, I’m Tony Stark - but you obviously already knew that”, he motioned the man stood beside him, “-and this is Doctor Bruce Banner, but you probably know him better as the Hulk.”

Amelia’s eyes widened, her lips parting in shock as she looked over the mild-looking man, who shook his head slightly at Stark, his uneven smile evident of his displeasure at being introduced in such a way; Amelia’s thoughts were rolling - it explained why she found him to be familiar, but this man, Bruce, seemed so pacified and… nothing like the Hulk, really.

Tony was watching her carefully, she noticed, as she hesitantly held out her hand to Bruce in greeting and spoke, “Um, nice to meet you, Doctor Banner… you’re, uh, much smaller and less green in person.”

While Bruce shook her hand and offered a sincere smile, Tony interlocked his hands and levelled Banner with what appeared to be a meaningful grin - one that Amelia couldn’t exactly decipher; clearly she was missing something regarding the two of them, but it didn’t bother her in the slightest. She was too busy worrying about her upcoming encounter with Loki.

“It’s a pleasure to have you here, Amelia”, Tony stated with a hint of only partial-sarcasm, “I take it you’re here to parley with Loki?”

Amelia rose an eyebrow over his wording, “Well, uh, I guess…” she murmured, fidgeting with her fingers, “What I really want is an apology…” 

Tony’s gaze passed between the other two men in the room, “Hmm… well, good luck with that”, he didn’t sound optimistic on her behalf, and Amelia looked nervously up at Thor, her assurance running thin.

Thor’s expression held a very restrained hint of exasperation as he looked towards the prestigious billionaire, and Amelia couldn’t help but assume that all three men before her had talked boundlessly about the little affair between herself and Loki. It irritated her - she wished the whole thing had been kept private; she didn’t mind Thor’s involvement, but she didn’t exactly want every Avenger around knowing she had been romantically involved, unknowingly or not, with somebody who had once tried to enslave the human race.

“Would you like to see him now?” Thor asked her, and Amelia bristled with tension.

_ Not really,  _ she thought, but it was too late to turn back now, and she shrugged her shoulders, nodding her assent. As Thor led her out the room, Tony and Bruce shared a glance that made it feel as though they were having a conversation in their heads - maybe they  _ were,  _ Amelia didn’t know - and it did nothing to soothe her already frayed nerves.

They had to ride another elevator to a different floor and traverse down a winding hallway before they came face to face with an innocuous, locked door; the entire journey there had been bad for her heart, thanks to the rising anticipation.

Thor was the one to knock on the door.

“Loki?” he called, and there was a slight rustling sound from the other side.

“What?” came the muffled and grouchy response after a few quiet moments, and Amelia’s chest tightened from the mere sound of his voice.

“Will you unlock the door, brother?”

“Leave me be, Thor.” Amelia could practically hear the roll of his eyes from his voice alone; Thor didn’t back down - it was clear this kind of interaction was probably a regular occurrence for the two brothers.

“Amelia is with me”, Thor stated straightforwardly, and then there was silence. Amelia fiddled with her fingers distractedly, a little put off by the completely absence of sound coming from the room within - Loki obviously hadn’t expected Thor to bring her to him.

The hush lasted just a tad too long, and then the door wordlessly unlocked, as made clear by the little screen panel on the wall flickering from red to green, and Amelia felt just an ounce of her anxiety alleviate. Thor smiled triumphantly and pushed the door open, stepping into the room and holding it ajar for Amelia to slip in behind him.

Amelia wasn’t sure what she had expected, but the sight that greeted her was definitely not what she had imagined. The room was large and tidy, complimented with a few piles of books here and there, and appeared to have all the necessities and a few additional luxuries - a full bookcase, a vanity with a large mirror, an impressively sized flat television fixed into the wall, and a reading alcove that was currently occupied.

Loki sat in the window bay where sunlight streamed into the room, his body curled into a very relaxed position against several soft cushions, with his nose buried in a book. He looked relatively content aside from the subtle knit of his eyebrows, and he refused to take his attention off of the novel in his hands. His clothes were both the vision of grandeur and simplicity - black trousers with a green tunic that had visible golden threads embroidered around the sleeves and collar - and he looked far more natural in them than he ever had in his black suit.

He ignored their presence for a couple of quiet minutes while Amelia found herself unable to look away from his face, clenching her jaw to damper down on her fluctuating feelings, until eventually, Thor spoke.

“Have you not lied to Amelia enough already, brother?” Thor asked cryptically, and Amelia frowned, a hint of confusion working its way into her head, “No more illusions.”

There was not a hint of acknowledgement in Loki’s expression, he didn’t even appear to be reading the book he held - his gaze was stationary on the page. Thor sighed and spared Amelia a glance.

“I’ll be just outside if you need me”, he told her quietly, and Amelia blanched as the God of Thunder turned to leave her alone in the room.  _ There goes my reassurance,  _ she thought bitterly, before turning her full attention to the man who had broken her heart.

She said nothing for the longest time, staring at him expectantly - what was she supposed to say? Loki should be the one to start off this little conversation; he  _ clearly  _ wanted to speak with her, or he wouldn’t have unlocked the door in the first place.

But no words left his mouth. He didn’t even look at her.

“Loki”, Amelia said firmly, a little vexed at being disregarded in favour of a book that wasn’t even being read. “What did Thor mean? About...  _ no more illusions?”  _ she enquired - the enigmatic phrase bothered her, especially when precursored with  _ ‘haven’t you lied to Amelia enough already?’  _

It made her feel as though Loki’s deceptions were ongoing, and that was the last thing she needed.

Another few seconds of unpleasant unresponsiveness transpired, in which Amelia felt as though she was speaking to a ghost, and then the scene before her warped in a flash of green light - she squinted, taking a startled step back, before comprehending a very stark difference to the sight laid out before her. 

The bed was messy, pillows laying neglected on the floor, the duvet askew, and the piles of books were less orderly - some of the abandoned novels were even damaged as if they had been carelessly kicked or thrown about. Loki was no longer poised serenely in the window alcove, and instead was now bathed in shadows and situated in a supine position across the recliner, his hard gaze taking in every minute detail of the ceiling. His clothes were different too - he was adorned in what Amelia could only guess was some sort of Asgardian dressing gown.  _ Too glum to put on some day clothes, perhaps? _

Amelia swallowed, finding that the image hit a little too close to home.

_ She wouldn’t cry, she wouldn’t cry. _

“Why are you here?” asked Loki, his voice low and grating, but with a softness to it that Amelia couldn’t help but focus on.

She frowned, eyes flickering away from the man and around the room, despite the fact that he hadn’t even pinned her with his intense gaze, “Why do you think?” she murmured in response, her voice as wary as her stance.

At last, Loki turned his eyes on her, and Amelia squirmed inwardly, “You told me you never wanted to see me again, and yet here you are”, he watched her all too closely with his penetrating green eyes and Amelia felt as though he was searching through her mind for a confirmation of her intent.  _ Can he read minds? He can make illusions, apparently, so what else can he do? _

There was no use in beating around the bush, “I’m here to hear you out”, she explained, forcing her voice to remain steady while urging a sense of incisiveness into her tone, “Consider this your  _ second chance.  _ I expect an apology.”

Loki’s perforating stare was perturbing, and Amelia truly did not like the way his mouth curved into an open, sarcastic smile in response to her words; he sat up slowly, smoothing a hand through his unkempt hair, “An apology? Is that all you want, Amelia?” He spoke her name with condescension and she bristled reflexively. 

Of course an apology wasn’t all she wanted - what Amelia  _ wanted _ was so see some genuine, deep regret from the man before her. She wanted an authentic apology filled with guilt and sorrow and self-condemnation; she wanted Loki to wish he had never done such awful things.

But this was apparent, and Loki’s question was rhetorical, for when she opened her mouth to speak again, he cut her off hastily, raising his voice with derision, “What  _ use  _ is an apology? Where will that get us?  _ Nowhere.  _ Nothing I say will ever earn myself your forgiveness, so  _ why do you demand an apology from me?”  _ he snapped, waving his hands animatedly as he spoke.

_ She wouldn’t cry. _

Amelia bit her lip hard, worrying it to the point that she could taste blood in her mouth, all in an effort to keep herself composed, but at the same time, there was nothing she could do to keep the anger from reaching its boiling point, “If you think… that an apology is  _ only _ worth it when it’s exchanged for forgiveness, then you’re a- a…  _ fucking insensitive jerk!”  _ She might’ve had the sense to feel embarrassed for the lack of diction in her immature response, but her anger clouded her head as the tears clouded her eyes.

Then, to make matters worse, Loki laughed mirthlessly, sharp and acidic, at her abysmal exclamation, “I’m sure you remember me telling you the first time we met that I’m not at all selfless. If there’s nothing in it for me, then there’s no point.”

His proclamation was not dissimilar to a punch in the chest - and she felt the effects as if the breath had been knocked out of her; a sudden dread that made her feel foolish and shattered all over again. She had surmised that everything they had shared up until the reveal of Loki’s true identity had been disingenuous -  _ a farce  _ \- that nothing from Loki’s side of their relationship had been real, but to hear such words from his mouth now was the final proof of that hypothesis.

She had hoped, deep down, that there had been some sincerity to the caring words and affectionate touches he had given her - but she saw now that that had been rash, wishful thinking.

_ Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry. _

Amelia wiped her eyes fiercely with the sleeve of her cardigan, forcing herself to appear unflustered -  _ it was really no use though, she was as easy to read as an open book  _ \- and tried to appear vehement, “So you are openly admitting you’re a heartless bastard and you never cared for me, not at all?” She just needed to hear him say it plainly, so she could walk away without doubt.

When she caught his gaze again, Loki eyes burned into the floor and he seemed reluctant to even look at her; he was noiseless once more, mouth shut tight, but Amelia could see from the subtle movement of his jaw that he was grinding his teeth rather brutally.

Just when Amelia had had enough of his damned silence, he spoke, his voice full of conviction, “I did not kill your brother.” He shrugged his shoulders as though it was no big deal, with a dismissive shake of his head, and it took a full five seconds before Amelia actually perceived the words that had come so frivolously from his mouth.

_ “What?”  _ Amelia squeaked.

Loki stood up so suddenly that Amelia felt herself jolt in alarm, she flinched as he took one step forwards but did not come any closer.

_ “I  _ did not kill your brother”, he repeated forcefully, jabbing a finger against his chest, “I didn’t  _ personally  _ knock a building on top of him so you can  _ stop  _ blaming me. It was one of the Chitauri,  _ not me,  _ and they’re all dead so what does it matter?”

Amelia’s mouth fell open in shock. The sensation of horrible trepidation grew more powerful as the abrupt lack of sound following Loki’s interjection felt somewhat startling, and despite the harsh need to curl in on herself by way of defense, she stood her ground, affixing Loki with a look so resentful that nobody could misinterpret the hostility of her manner.

The pure fact that Loki was denying responsibility over Aaron’s death was far more anguishing than his refusal to apologise.

“Thor was wrong about you… you’re not at all remorseful over what you did. You’re just a killer… a  _ monster,  _ and you won’t ever change, will you?”

Loki’s head tilted, his expression growing fretfully blank; the only hint of emotion Amelia received was from the way his nostrils flared - which couldn’t have meant anything good. The cold eye-contact between them was unsettling, and Amelia yearned to look away, but it felt as though to do so would be conceding defeat in the face of the man’s domineering manner -  _ and she would not show weakness. _

And then, Loki nodded. Not a nod of concurrence, but a slow and flippant dip of his head, his mouth forming a ghost of a faux smile as he spoke, voice low and resonant, “You think I’m a monster  _ now?”  _

A chill encapsulated the room, the temperature distinctly dropping a few degrees, so much so that Amelia’s arms went instinctively around herself. Loki’s eyes changed, the deep green that Amelia had once admired drained from his pupils, making way for a spine-tingling, bright red that made her heart pulse with alarm; his skin bled from pale peach into a steely blue. It started with the tips of his fingers, crawling up his arms, over his bare collarbone and across his face, leaving raised lines in its wake, until his whole body was masked with the striking hue.

Amelia didn’t realise she had withdrawn until she felt the hard wall against her back, and suddenly she felt trapped - trapped and afraid, because the icy air made her lungs burn, her chest growing tight, and Loki had her fastened with his vermillion gaze. He smiled as he approached her, mouth open to reveal his sharp, white teeth, and Amelia could not deny that she was frightened by his vicious leer.

Before she could even think to call out for Thor, Loki jerked forwards, boxing her in with his palms flat against the wall either side of her head, and in her frantic breaths, Amelia found that she could see the mist before her face as she gasped.

“This is what I truly am, Amelia”, he spoke, and his voice sounded oddly calm and very much like it did not match its owner. He smiled bitterly, “You almost fell in love with this  _ monster.” _

Amelia swallowed in an endeavour to soothe her hurried breathing, forcing herself to inhale and exhale in a deep, more controlled manner; her eyes flickered across him, taking in his staggering features. The blue shade of his skin was spectacular, and if it wasn’t for the circumstances of the moment, Amelia may have felt the urge to touch him - but instead she remained still, taking the biting freeze of the air for what it was -  _ a warning. _

The slightly darker, raised lines that trailed across his complexion looked intricate, a pleasing pattern of symmetry that brought with it the natural compulsion to want to trace it with her fingers.

In his ruby eyes, Amelia saw the unmistakable bearings of self-hatred.

It was significant from her standpoint, and this show that was so suddenly brought on began to make partial sense; his intent was to scare, not to harm, that was clear, and in his  _ true form,  _ Amelia discovered Loki was quite bad at hiding how much he loathed himself - as if his words weren’t blatant enough.

Amelia shook her head, raising her chin to meet his challenging stare, “You’re not a monster because of your appearance, Loki”, she said softly, successfully keeping the quiver from her voice, and she saw his eyes twitch, his eyebrows becoming less narrow as he drew back slightly.

“You’re a monster because of your actions.”

Loki blinked slowly, backing away from her as his skin oozed back into its more primary tone; his eyes once again flooded with green, and a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it flicker of pained regret.

But Amelia saw it.

Loki turned away from her, walking around the edge of his bed to sit down on the floor by his bedside table. Amelia could not see his face, watching as he brought his knees close to his chest and breathed an audible sigh.

“Go.” He said quietly.

When Amelia did not move immediately, Loki pulled something from the drawer at his side and threw it back to her without much toil; two items landed by her feet, which Amelia hastily identified as the gloves she had gifted him at Christmas.

_ “Go”,  _ he repeated, his voice strained.

Amelia stared at the gloves, her shoulders slumped,  _ but she would not cry.  _ She bent down to pick them up, holding them stiffly in her hands, and considered throwing them back at him with an accompanied snarl of a comeback,  _ ‘keep them, your hands are probably cold.’  _

But she was not one to make matters worse; and thus kept her mouth shut, pocketing the gloves with an exhausted nod of defeat.

She still did not leave; her brain seemed to chant at her to stay - that things could still turn around and Loki would come to his senses and apologise, but nothing of the sort came.

Loki gave another frustrated sigh before grabbing an empty glass on his nightstand; with the briefest glance back over his shoulder, revealing his red-rimmed eyes, Loki flung the kitchenware at the wall by her head, partnered with a furious hiss,  _ “Get out!” _

Amelia flinched, throwing her arms up to cover her face as the glass shattered a foot away from her head, and the hostile action was enough to jolt some common sense into her. At the smashing sound, Thor swung the door open, entering the room with a look of moderate alarm, and Amelia took that moment to push past him, leaving without another moment.

She marched down the corridor towards the elevator, passing the very curious-but-not-surprised duo of Tony Stark and Bruce Banner, and ultimately ignored them as she went; she heard the muffled enquiry from Thor,  _ “What happened, brother?” _ but nothing more than that.

In the privacy of the elevator leading down to the foyer, Amelia pressed the ball of her hands to her eyes, knocking her glasses askew as she made a point to quell her wheezing breaths, so close to tears and yet too stubborn to let them fall.

When she reached the ground floor, she flounced towards the exit, and would have made it uninterrupted had Thor not come bounding down the flight of stairs, calling her name.

“Amelia, wait!”

With no other outlet to direct her anger and frustration, she swung around and pointed accusingly at the God of Thunder, “You lied to me, you son of a bitch! You told me he was sorry,  _ you told me that he cared!”  _ Thor winced, coming to an abrupt stop before her, and held his hands up as if to calm a wild animal.

“I did not lie, Amelia. He  _ is  _ remorseful and he  _ does  _ care about you, but my brother is- he’s-” he let out a trying sigh, “Loki is an absolute fool who knows not how to express his guilt. When my brother is hurt or confused, he will  _ mask  _ his feelings with anger and sarcasm - it’s like his defense mechanism”, he explained briskly, “I ask you to please, give him one more chance-”

Amelia shook her head, “No,  _ no. I will not.  _ I gave him a second chance, and I don’t think he deserved even that. I will not give him a third chance”, she spoke resolutely, and it was a miracle that she did not stammer. She pointed to the exit of the building, “I am walking out these doors, and I am not coming back.”

She did not give Thor the opportunity to respond, and left the building with her head held high - at least until she put a few blocks of distance between herself and Avengers Tower, then she promptly burst into tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm such a slut for Jotun Loki, I had to fit him in somewhere. 
> 
> PLEASE COMMENT, IT MAKES ME SUPER HAPPY! <3
> 
> Also, this story just passed 100k words, and that is freaking RAD.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony sighed, resuming his work for a few merciful minutes until he spoke again, “You know… helping the Avengers might get you into Amelia’s good books-”
> 
> “Stop”, Loki sneered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little weird. It isn't as long as the last chapter but I hope you still enjoy it :)

For the last month, Loki’s sleep had been afflicted with nightmares.

As a result, Loki found himself stubbornly avoiding sleep at all costs, electing instead to pick up a book and read; it didn’t matter what the book was about, he simply needed a neat little distraction to keep his brain occupied and aware, and it worked to an extent - until he groggily awoke to find he’d been using his book as a pillow, and the retreating remnants of his malevolent dreams hung eerily in the back of his mind.

Some nights, he could not remember the subject of his dreams, but upon reaching consciousness to find himself covered in cold sweat, his blankets ruffled and disturbed, and his body bent into agonised positions, it was an easy enough guess.

_ Thanos.  _

The pain he suffered in his dreams was all too real, as clear and sharp as the memories of the time that plagued him - when he was captured by the Mad Titan himself shortly after falling from the Bifrost, and made to endure blistering torture and seemingly endless abuse, until his ideals were warped and he was transformed into a pitiful, mindless man, manipulated into enslaving a planet under the promise of more boundless torture should he fail.

Loki had been subjected to these nightmares for a long, long time, but they had never bothered him so frequently until now - they were happening every night, and nothing he did could soothe them. He’d tried meditation, among other things, but the frightful dreams were relentless, attacking him in his vulnerable state of unconsciousness regardless of how much he attempted to placate them.

The worst thing was that they seemed so  _ real.  _ Every time he awoke, it took him far too long to remember that he was safe in Avengers Tower and not facing harrowing torment upon Thanos’s huge ship. 

It was the reason he found himself, more often than not, crawling out of bed at two o’clock in the morning and heading down to the main living quarters to consume a light snack by way of keeping the dream-induced madness in his mind at bay… and to satisfy his empty stomach, of course.

On one night in particular, he arrived in the lounge room to find Tony Stark clad in pyjamas, sitting on the couch while tapping away at the keys of his laptop; Loki contemplated whether it was worth it to stick about, but his stomach protested with a quiet rumble when he moved to turn back, and he gave an inward sigh, opting to bear Stark’s potential chit-chat for the sake of resolving his hunger.

Tony’s eyes briefly flickered up as Loki walked into the room, before returning nonchalantly to the glowing screen of his laptop, “Can’t sleep?” he enquired as Loki strode purposefully towards the refrigerator.

“I would ask you the same question”, Loki retorted without sparing him a glance as he pulled the fridge door open and searched its contents for a viable meal. His eyes fell immediately to what was unmistakably a pizza box and his mouth seemed to water at the memory of just how good the greasy cuisine had tasted the first time he’d tried it.

“Hm? Oh, I wasn’t sleeping, I was working”, Tony answered, peering up at Loki over the screen of his computer, before sarcastically adding, “Oh, and help yourself to my pizza”, after Loki snatched up the box for himself.

Loki ignored the sardonic comment as he situated himself upon one of the barstools at the counter, opening up the cardboard box to find just a few slices of what had once been a gloriously whole cheese pizza; while his stomach wished for more than three slices of this delicious food, he would have to settle with what was left. When he took his first bite of the first slice, he had to restrain a moan of delight at the taste - who would’ve thought pizza was even tastier when cold?

He consumed the first segment of cheese and tomato-slathered bread in record time, licking his fingers clean before picking up the second slice, and noticed with dismay that Tony was staring at him with one inquisitively quirked eyebrow.

“What?” Loki grumbled, glaring at the other man without hesitating to begin devouring more of the appetizing food.

Tony shrugged lightly, directing his gaze back to his work, “Just never pictured you stuffing your face with pizza, that’s all.”

Loki’s nose wrinkled haughtily, but he otherwise ignored the man in favour of giving his mouth time to chew. Silence followed, which was unusual for the two of them - whenever they were together in the room, there were generally insults being thrown left and right - but it could’ve come down to the plain fact that both were tired and not in a place to be expelling energy with pointless quips.

Indeed, Loki’s head rested squarely in his palm as he ate, too drowsy to sit up straight, and after a few minutes he found his eyelids periodically falling shut despite his efforts to remain alert; it was only when Stark broke the silence that his eyes opened wide, irritably startled as the peacefulness left the room.

“Y’know”, Tony said, “I’ve been thinking-”

“Great”, Loki interrupted snidely.

Tony paid him no heed, “I’ve been thinking - what if you joined us on a few missions now and then? It’d be less boring than sulking in your room all day long”, he shrugged his shoulders, trying to pose the suggestion as parenthetically as possible.

“Have you lost your mind?” Loki responded between nibbles of the bready crusts, “If I am seen with you, you will have no choice but to reveal to the world that you’ve been harbouring me right under the noses of everybody in New York.”

“Yes, but what better way to reintroduce you to society than through reports of you  _ helping  _ people?” Tony pointed out, “You can’t remain secreted in this tower forever, Loki.”

Loki pinned the man with a dreary look, “You do recall that I’m not here of my own volition, right?”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic”, Tony said, which was rich coming from him, “We aren’t keeping you chained down in the basement, we’ve allowed you free rein throughout the city. The only reason you haven’t up and left for good is because you have nowhere else to actually go - and deep down, you want to redeem yourself.”

Loki probably would have laughed if he was in a more blithe mood, but instead he shook his head, swallowing the food in his mouth before biting back a contemptuous smirk, “You should get some rest, Stark. Clearly sleep deprivation has left you incapable of rational thought.”

Tony sighed, resuming his work for a few merciful minutes until he spoke again, “You know… helping the Avengers might get you into Amelia’s good books-”

_ “Stop”, _ Loki sneered, landing the billionaire with a look as if to say  _ choose your words more wisely,  _ “A few good deeds will not prompt Amelia to run back here and willingly offer forgiveness”, his voice held a note of menace.

“No, but it’s a start”, Tony continued, regardless of the underlying threat in Loki’s tone, “Maybe in time, you’ll do enough good deeds that she might consider giving you another chance.”

“She will not.”

The billionaire grew visibly frustrated with Loki’s lack of cooperation, “What’s the harm?” he asked, an acerbic edge to his exclamation, “What, you have your grisly reputation as a villainous little shit to uphold? Well let me tell you, Loki, you don’t look intimidating in a dainty little night gown with a mouthful of pizza, but  _ that _ doesn’t seem to bother you too much.”

Loki stopped mid-chew, eyes flickering down fleetingly to his silk robe, his face scrunching up with a look of indignation, and despite his wearied state, he mustered up the audacity to snap back, “You don’t exactly form the picture of highbrow perfection yourself, Stark”, and indeed he did not. His pyjamas were wrinkled, there were dark circles below his eyes and his hair was just a  _ mess. _

Tony laughed. “I don’t claim to, buddy.”

With that, the man shut his laptop, jumped to his feet, and made his way towards the exit; before disappearing around the corner, he gave Loki a significant look, “Sweet dreams”, he said, and then he was gone.

Loki spent the next half hour wondering if Stark was in the know about his persistent nightmares, or whether his eloquent expression and remark had just been ultimately coincidental.

* * *

The cemetery was quiet, reminiscent of how peaceful it had been the day Loki had met Amelia, except the moon was blotted out of the sky, swathed with great, black clouds that seemed to permeate the air around him, growing closer with each mechanical step.

It was suffocating, and Loki questioned why his feet had led him here, to be among a field swimming with rotting corpses - some old, some new, but most notably, some killed by his own hand.

Ahead, Loki spotted a gravestone through the mist, one that he knew belonged to Aaron Avery - it was decorated with a sprig of lilies that had yet to wilt, but were getting there, if the slight, dull discoloration of the bloom was anything to go by. He frowned, casting a glance over his shoulder before kneeling beside it, and reached out tentatively to pinch a petal between his fingers; he let his magic flow from his fingertips, imbuing the flower with new life, and its pure white colour once again shone bright, blooming with beauty.

“Why would you do that?”

Loki jerked to his feet, taking several steps back, and faced Amelia, who stood idly just a few feet away, her downcast eyes focused on the now-thriving bouquet of lilies at her brother’s grave. Her expression was that of plain sorrow, nothing like the usual mix of complex emotions Loki would often see burning behind her eyes.

“The lilies were dying”, Loki answered, somewhat dazed by her presence, and her eyebrows twitched, the corners of her mouth turning downwards with disapproval.

“They are supposed to die”, Amelia spoke quietly, “That’s what makes them beautiful. It’s nature’s way of teaching us that nothing lasts forever.”

Loki did not know what to say to her; after their feudal exchange at Avengers Tower, he did not expect to see her again so soon. Despite the fact more than a month had passed and that Loki had spent countless hours and sleepless nights reflecting on the things he had said to her, he was not yet prepared to speak with her face to face.

“I… I just wanted to… preserve their beauty for a while longer”, Loki responded calmly, forlorn over the way Amelia sounded so disappointed and unforgiving in her remark.

“Owing to the fact that you feel guilty?” She enquired, not meeting his gaze, and Loki breathed deeply, releasing a sigh -  _ no, he wasn’t guilty. He denied being responsible for Aaron’s death, so why would he be guilty? _

“Because you  _ did  _ kill him, and you know it”, Amelia answered his brisk thought, her voice cool and lacking in emotion.

“No”, Loki snapped, his hard gaze on her, “I already told you, I did not kill him. It was a Chitauri-”

Finally, Amelia met his stare; her eyes were sunken in and her skin was sallow, lacking any sort of exuberance, and swirling in the dull colour of her irises was sudden onset anger. She shook her head, tears welling up, and it pained Loki that any attempt to offer her comfort would be rejected - he did not want to see her cry, the physical manifestation of her grief tugged wearily at his cool composition, threatening to shatter his aloof exterior.

And then she took three steps towards him and slapped him across the face -  _ and it hurt.  _ Not just emotionally, but physically - he grunted as he staggered back a few steps, watching her with an incredulous stare as he brought his hand up to soothe the sting of his cheek.

“God of Lies”, she choked out, eyes glistening, “When will you stop lying to yourself?”

Loki swallowed hard as her words cut into him, the side of his face burning red with rising heat, and he was struck with the thought of how frighteningly vacant and desolate Amelia’s eyes looked. No longer were they the warm, honey brown he was so used to seeing, instead they were dull like the dying bark of a tree, void of anything.

“Amelia?” he whispered, wondering if she was truly standing there before him or if he had succumbed to hallucinations brought on by sleep withdrawal.

“You are responsible”, Amelia snapped, pointing an accusatory finger at his chest, “Just  _ admit  _ it.”

To blame the Chitauri for Aaron’s death was quite the reach on Loki’s part given he had led the alien race to Earth and proceeded to command them to wreak havoc. Without him to guide them, Aaron Avery would still be alive, and Amelia would be happily flourishing instead of wilting all too soon like the flowers on her brother’s grave.

His denial had been one last ditch effort, his only hope of seizing her forgiveness, because if he could convince himself that he wasn’t liable, then maybe he could convince Amelia as well. 

Then, maybe, an apology might’ve been enough. But who was he kidding?

“I am responsible”, he declared, “I am responsible for Aaron’s death.” He swallowed thickly around the lump in his throat, his expression that of shame and imploration, “I hurt people… I  _ killed  _ people, without realising the consequences of my actions. I took the lives of men, women and children, and brought anguish to their loved ones… the things I did are beyond absolution, Amelia, how can I ever make this right?”

Something in Amelia’s daunting gaze seemed to placate a little, the creases of her still-empty stare smoothing out just an ounce.

“This isn’t about forgiveness. This is about remorse”, she answered him, “Just because you don’t think your apology will be accepted, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t  _ try.” _

Loki wanted to reach out and touch her, rub his thumb across her cheekbone and run his fingers through her hair, anything to persuade himself that this moment was real, that Amelia was stood before him and he wasn’t experiencing cruel delusions. He wanted to hold her again.

“Why did you come here, Loki?” Amelia asked after a time, her stare drifting to their ominous surroundings, “Why did you come to the cemetery?”

Loki couldn’t answer. He did not know why he had come here. He did not even recall making the decision to come here, and couldn’t quite remember the route he had taken to arrive at the darkened graveyard.

A strange noise from behind him broke his attention - the unmistakable sound of dry soil cracking - and Loki glanced back over his shoulder to try and locate the source; nothing looked out of the ordinary and he wrote it off as a burrowing animal without much thought, turning his attentiveness back to Amelia.

Except she was gone.

“Amelia?” he called out, glancing up the path searchingly - he hadn’t even heard her footsteps leading away,  _ where was she? _

Something enclosed tightly around his ankle and he jerked away immediately, eyes falling down to the horrible sight of a mangled hand reaching out of the earth, clawing at his leg blindly; a noise of alarmed disgust escaped him as he backed away, trying to discern the origin of the dark magic that was incidentally being used to  _ raise the dead. _

There had to be somebody watching him - someone educated in the art of necromancy, that was what his logical mind told him as the rotting, skeletal hand outstretched, pulling the rest of its body from the ground with leverage. Loki conjured his knives, prepared to incapacitate the undead creature the moment it decided to approach him; he was too busy focusing his awareness on the one to notice he was completely surrounded by reanimated corpses - it was only when one of them tapped his shoulder that he spun around to discover them, and immediately he attacked, cutting through their delicate joints and leaving them a helpless pile of bones at his feet.

He wasn’t at all concerned about being overcome by the many tens of lively carcasses coming his way - they bore no strength in their frail framework against his muscular brawn and whatever sorcerer chose to bring them to life was clearly an amateur - Loki was more worried about Amelia and where she had disappeared to.

His thoughts were answered by the sound of her unexpectedly calm voice, “All the people you killed”, she spoke, and Loki dispatched another rotting body before locating the woman standing beyond the crowd of undead, “They want revenge, it seems.”

_ “Amelia”, _ Loki’s eyes dragged over her form; she looked so relaxed as the otherworldly creatures descended upon him, an apathetic look on her face as though she was watching him receive exactly what he deserved. Reanimated corpses were not common on Midgard, Loki knew as much, so it was quite suspicious that she was simply stood there like this was a natural, everyday occurrence.

Amelia wouldn’t act this way, she would be horrified by this display - which could only mean one thing.  _ This wasn’t Amelia. _

As Loki came to this conclusion, the world around him seemed to melt away, along with the group of writhing corpses, to be replaced by a desolate wasteland purged with blazing fire; the heat was intense, as though he’d been launched into the sun, and instantly he had trouble breathing, throwing his arms up to shield his face as though it would do anything to protect him from the smoldering heat.

_ Why was this happening?  _

Loki’s vision darted all over the place, looking for an escape as he wheezed painfully; fire seemed to rain down from the crimson sky above, making it impossible to escape the horrific inferno.

In his rush, he tripped and staggered over a previously unseen object, and looked back to find Bruce Banner, pinned to the ground with a golden spear through his chest,  _ dead. _

_ “What?”  _ Loki rasped, not sure whether to believe the sight before him. To defeat the Hulk was an unbelievable feat, he himself could attest to that, which meant whoever had eliminated Banner must’ve been inconceivably powerful. He squinted through his distorted vision, the rising heat from the ground creating twisting ripples that made it difficult to comprehend what he was looking at.

A few feet away, he spotted another crumpled body, gleaming with reflected light; as Loki grew closer, he identified Tony Stark in his Iron Man suit, though the helmet was missing, revealing his very much lifeless cadaver.

_ How did this happen? When did this happen? _

More motionless shapes became visible around him, and he recognised each and every one; Black Widow, Captain America, Hawkeye, Vision, even the boy, Spider-Man, lay irrefutably dead -  _ and Thor.  _ Loki lurched towards his fallen brother, checking him for signs of life, but the God of Thunder was bloody all over, and his unseeing gaze was evident enough that there was no breath left in him.

“No”, Loki uttered.

_ This couldn’t be real - it couldn’t. It did not make any sense. Was this a vision of the future? _

He shook his brother, to no avail, wishing for this image before his eyes to disperse; there was only one being he knew that had the strength to take down Earth’s mightiest heroes, who had the potential to cause a bloodbath such as this.

A glacial, nefarious chuckle penetrated the fiery atmosphere, and Loki felt his blood run cold, his muscles refusing to move for a solid few seconds as dreadful fear pervaded his veins; he turned his head, and there stood Thanos.

With Amelia clutched tightly in his grasp.

Thanos gripped her by the neck, leaving her enough room to breathe - but only just; the woman struggled, grappling with his hand as she gasped and choked, a look of pure terror on her face.

“No”, Loki forced out through his constricted throat,  _ “Stop, please. Please, no.” _

Thanos smiled a stomach-churning smile, “You know what I want.”

Loki could not fight him. Thanos had killed those who had once defeated Loki himself, there was not a chance of victory, and Amelia was growing paler by the second. There was only one hope of saving Amelia from the depraved creature before him.

The Tesseract appeared in Loki’s hand instantaneously, as if it just  _ knew _ that it was needed, and with a shaking hand, he offered it up in exchange for the mortal woman; Thanos’s smirk grew, revealing rows of sharp teeth as he took the glowing blue cube.

_ And with a tightening of his fist, the Mad Titan snapped Amelia’s neck anyway. _

Loki awoke with a strangled cry, shooting upright as anguish and adrenaline pumped through him; he fell silent the moment he became lucid and aware of the fact that he was in his room at Avengers Tower, the only sound that escaped him was his frantic breaths.

_ It was a dream, it was all just a dream. Of course it was. _

But Loki had to be sure. With trembling movements, Loki threw back the covers and unlocked the bedside cabinet compartment with a wave of his hand; there, sitting inconspicuously at the back of the drawer, was the Tesseract he had procured from Asgard’s vault before the planet met its untimely end.

Loki’s tremulous respiration slowed gradually, and he locked the object back up with the aid of his magic, ensuring it wouldn’t accidentally fall into prying hands, wishing not to look upon it any longer than he had to. 

_ Gods,  _ Loki thought,  _ will these nightmares ever cease? _

The cruel, artificial ordeals his mind forced him to experience every time he closed his eyes were getting old. He’d had them for years following his initial run-in with Thanos, the dreams plagued him while he served his sentence in Asgard’s prison, they assaulted him even as he assumed the role of Odin, and they troubled him on Sakaar, and now here on Earth - but before they had been far less prevalent, occurring once or twice a month.

He was suffering every time he laid his head down to rest.

And now, Amelia too starred in his nightmares, reminding him vehemently of the guilt he harboured, refusing to let him think he could place the blame of Aaron Avery’s death on anybody but himself.

Loki hung his head in exhaustion, covering his face with his hands. He hadn’t seen the  _ real  _ Amelia for well over a month, and not a day had passed that she didn’t drift into his thoughts, filling him with woe and a pointed ache prodding explicitly in his chest.

He hoped she was well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHEW, not a good dream there Loki. LET'S HOPE IT DOESN'T BECOME A REALITY IN INFINITY WAR HAHAHAHAHAHAHhahahah ..hah ha ..ha h...


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think people were getting a bit exhausted from all the angst, so here's a little bit of an interlude with something different ;) I'm very happy with this chapter! I worked super hard on it so please enjoy!

Loki’s eyes drifted across the page of the book he was currently absorbed in. There was nothing more useful to waste his time on, so he figured he might as well pass the time by doing something he enjoyed, and it turned out there were more Midgardian literatures that were as compelling as  _ Harry Potter  _ had been, if not moreso. He was presently engrossed in a medieval-fantasy novel, the third book in it’s series, of which painted the scene of a wedding-turned-bloodbath. 

The pace of the series was interesting, and Loki found himself enjoying it, especially the countless instances of horrific violence so wonderfully described. But even as he read, fortuitous thoughts intruded upon his mind - he wondered out of the blue whether Amelia had ever read  _ A Song of Ice and Fire,  _ before blinking rapidly to dispel the harmless-yet-irritating thought from his mind.

No matter what he did, his train of thought would inevitably find its way back to her, reminding him of how much he missed her despite her exclamation of absolution the last time they had spoken.

He couldn’t help but feel foolish to have let himself become so close to a Midgardian woman, because it could only ever culminate in the same result. Heartbreak. Perhaps, in a way, it was better for their relationship to end as it had - with shouting, accusations and breaking glass - since the opposition would have been far more heart wrenching. Suppose things had turned out fine - that Amelia had learned of his true identity and somehow forgiven him - if they had grown closer still, it would all disappear for Loki in another sixty or seventy years anyway.

Amelia’s time was limited. She could spend her entire life with him, but the same could not be said for Loki. Amelia’s mortality would triumph over any life they shared together, and Loki would feel the pain of loss yet again, and be forced to spend his many remaining years knowing she was  _ dead. _

Loki wouldn’t admit it out loud, but the concept of Amelia dying made his heart twinge with discomfort, even knowing she hated him more than anything.

A sigh escaped his lips; he couldn’t concentrate on his book while thoughts of the woman infiltrated his mind. Loki slipped a bookmark into the last page he’d read, closing the book and placing it gingerly down on his bedside table; he stretched his limbs with a groan as his muscles tingled from the action before he moved to sit cross-legged in the centre of his bed, endeavouring to attempt a short session of meditation in hopes that it might aid his sleeping habits later that evening.

With his hands resting on his thighs, Loki relaxed his shoulders and let his eyes fall closed, allowing himself to breathe audibly and steadily through his nose until he found a good respiratory pace - after a few minutes, he was no longer conscious of the rhythm of his breathing and his thoughts began to wander naturally.

He imagined himself sitting beside a river in a peaceful forest, surrounded by nature with no distractions, just the sensation of the grass tickling his bare feet, the sounds of a light-blowing breeze dancing through tree leaves, the pleasing noise of the running water, the distant chirping of birds. He could feel the warmth of the sun on his skin, and he could smell the earthy, fertile soil from which white lilies sprouted.

An imaginary twig snapped behind him, shattering the image constructed in his mind, and Loki became aware of his breathing again, giving a huff of irritation at how easily his focus was disturbed.

He tried again, this time picturing himself in a vast, open field, the sky obstructed with white, rolling clouds, and yet parting for the sun, enabling heavenly rays to pierce through the grey. In the mid distance, a grouping of tall trees stood, their leaves thick so that the light above could not perforate them.

There was an unmistakable scent of petrichor, damp loam rising from the lively pasture around him - it had rained recently in this beautiful fabrication within his mind - and abruptly he felt the wetness of the grass below him, soaking into his clothes in a way that was not _ entirely  _ unpleasant.

Then, a soft laugh sounded, and the fragrance of intimate vanilla penetrated the air.

Loki opened his eyes, glaring at nothing in particular. Meditation was useless, it seemed, nothing could banish Amelia from his thoughts. Nothing, except the shrill, annoying voice of Tony Stark sounding from the other side of his bedroom door.

_ “Loki, you better be decent because I’m coming in”,  _ the billionaire called out, and Loki grunted with displeasure, offering a weary look to the man as he overrode the locking mechanism and sauntered into the room uninvited.

“What do you want?” Loki ground out tersely, noting the attendance of Bruce Banner and Thor over Tony’s shoulder, along with the ever so slightly frantic air about them.

“I have a job for you”, Tony stated with determination.

“No.”

_ “Come on,  _ you haven’t even heard what I have to say yet-”

“No. I’m not helping you with a mission. I told you last week”, Loki hissed in response, his absolute tone weakened by his ascending indignation at having the three of them burst into his room so abruptly.

“There’s been a kidnapping”, Tony continued, offering up information that Loki had in no way asked for, “A six year old girl has been abducted-”

“Why should I care, Stark?” Loki droned, brushing his hand through his hair with the intent of making it more presentable by way of showing how completely uninterested he was in what the CEO had to say.

“Brother, will you at least hear us out? We don’t have much time and could truly use your help”, said Thor imploringly, casting Loki a phlegmatic look that did not do much to hide the spark of disappointment in his expression.

“If you don’t have much time, then stop wasting it with me”, Loki riposted, his narrowed gaze wielding a pointed look towards the three men.

“Listen here Bambi, you’ve done nothing but sulk for the past month and a half and I’m sick of it. Can’t you see how pitiful you’re acting? Like a lazy teenager, locking yourself up in your room, refusing to see the light of day or get a job, and why exactly? Because you got your heart broken by a girl. I’ve got news for you,  _ kid,  _ you're not the first person alive to experience heartbreak and you sure as hell won’t be the last. It’s life. Grow up and deal with it.” Loki was sure Tony threw in the  _ ‘kid’  _ just to encourage a reaction, given the rest of his  _ motivational _ speech did nothing to rile him up in any way.

“You do realise I’m a thousand years older than you, right?” Loki muttered wryly, eyes rolling with a vapid look.

“Then how about you act like it?” Tony snapped back, “You know, maybe doing some good for the first time in your life will help lift a little of that blatantly guilty conscience you’re trying to hide and allow you a peaceful night’s sleep for once.”

Loki’s jaw clenched as he shot the man a hard look, wondering just how Tony had found out about his unremitting, harrowing dreams. Had the billionaire been spying on him at night? It wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility, and Loki’s eyes flickered subtly around his room with suspicion, looking for potential crooks and crevices that a hidden camera may have been placed in.

“...how did you know?” Loki enquired tightly after a few moments, and Tony’s tapered stare softened discreetly - something that Loki only found horrendously condescending.

“You’re not the only one who has nightmares, buddy”, Tony answered, crossing his arms casually across his chest, and Loki breathed a muted sigh.

After a few silent moments, Loki spoke, “Isn’t dealing with a kidnapping a bit below your pay grade? What’s so special about this child that the Avengers must personally take care of the matter?”

There was a ghost of a victorious smile across Tony’s face, one that left Loki quite irate, and Banner was the one to answer his question.

“The girl is a senator’s daughter and we’ve been contacted personally to resolve the issue - there’s believed to be an element of terrorism involved, which is generally our speciality”, he explained.

“And what do these kidnappers want, exactly?”

“A multitude of things regarding political changes, but notably, four million dollars”, Tony relayed, and Loki gave a snort of amusement.

“Why not just pay the ransom? It would hardly put a dent in your wealth, Stark.”

“I’m sure you’re aware we don’t operate by giving in to our enemies demands”, said the billionaire, a certain sarcasm to his tone that implied he was, at least to an extent, intending to mock him.

Loki shook his head with a huff, “I don’t understand why you need  _ me  _ to help carry out your rescue mission. It doesn’t sound like too difficult a task for the Avengers”, he spoke with derision, and could see that even Thor was growing tired of his ongoing declination - which Loki only found endlessly amusing, because this whole situation could be ignored if they just stopped trying so hard to convince him to help.

Tony motioned the door with a wave of his hand, “Well, we’d love to explain on the way since, as we said, we’re running a little short on time, but the long and the short of it is you can become invisible, and that is extremely useful to the cause. So will you help us?”

Perhaps it was the cautiously optimistic look on his brother’s face, or possibly, it was the fact that Loki was well and truly bored of doing nothing day in and day out, or maybe,  _ just maybe,  _ it was the nanoscopic chance that he could earn back Amelia’s trust and forgiveness if only he set himself on the right path - and as Tony had said before, helping the Avengers was a start.

He released a sigh and shrugged his shoulders, “Yes, okay. Fine. Whatever.”

The three superheroes smiled with triumph - Thor’s beaming expression far more uninhibited than that of the two. “Fantastic”, Tony stated with a hint of underlying success at having managed to convince the once-villain of seizing this opportunity, “Suit up and follow us.”

* * *

The six year old girl, Rio Collins, was being held somewhere in the building eight blocks down from their current location; the site was currently under supervision and there were various armed agents posted around the scene within an eight-hundred metre radius, too cautious to approach any closer.

The girl had been taken straight from the comfort of her bed very early that morning with nothing but a ransom note in her place, which had been carefully examined for all sorts of illuminating clues as to where she had been taken. A forensics analysis on traces of unique materials found in footprints at the scene of the kidnapping had revealed a possible location from which the group of criminals were operating, and after a few hours of discreet monitoring, it had been determined that the perpetrators were indeed within the premises.

The note that had been left on the girl’s bed detailed what would happen should the police become involved, and there was not much left to the imagination. They had threatened pain and death upon the child even at the sight of a single police siren, and warned of the gruesome consequences if their demands were not met within twenty-four hours - let’s just say  _ it involved decapitated fingers. _

At least, this was everything Loki had been told.

He stood with the other three present Avengers in a closed-off alley, along with a handful of armed agents who were watching him with a mix of consternation and suspicion - he paid their scrutiny no mind, trusting they would listen to their superiors and keep their damn mouths shut if they didn’t want their throats slit. The sun had set, bathing the city in darkness, only to be illuminated with the street lamps and the glow from residential windows, but providing more than enough cover of shadows to sneak around even without the aid of invisibility magic - this mission would go swimmingly, Loki was sure.

The building in which Rio was being kept was an abandoned, derelict office building, and the kidnappers were reportedly part of a larger organisation involved with terrorism; Loki’s  _ job  _ was to enter the structure from the roof via the fire exit, locate the child and return her to safety, and on the way out he had to knock out the proposed surveillance system belonging to the felonious group so that the agents could then file in and take every last criminal alive for future interrogation.

“Why can’t I incapacitate the kidnappers on the way to finding the child?” Loki argued, “It would be much easier than going stealth alone.” Loki had no issues with sneaking around undetected, he was simply vexed that he was being told he couldn’t deal with the threat using violence. That was no fun.

“We don’t know the circumstances of the girl’s confinement. If they’re alerted to your presence, which would probably be likely to happen if you’re knocking them out left and right, they could kill the child before you have the chance to reach her.” Tony told him, “Follow the plan and everything should go fine.”

“What if I take them out after I secure the girl?” Loki tried, pining for a chance to fight the kidnappers head on.

“Absolutely not”, Tony stated, raising his voice a tad - clearly irritated at the suggestions Loki kept throwing his way, “You could put the child in danger.  _ Follow the plan, Loki.” _

With an exasperated sigh and a sour look, Loki turned his attentions towards the direction of the warehouse, “You owe me for this, Stark.” His remark seemed to amuse the Tony if the slight upwards curl of his lip was anything to go by, and the man held out a tiny device, barely larger than the tip of his little finger.

“It’s an earpiece, so we can keep contact. If you could update us as you go, that would be terrific, and once you’ve gotten the girl out of there, just give us the signal and we’ll head on in.” 

Loki took the implement and inserted it into his ear where it fit nicely, and with one last warning glare to the armed agents that weren’t even trying to tone down their distrustful stares, he cloaked himself from view effortlessly with a flicker of magic and fell into step, making his way out of the alley and towards the identified building several hundred metres away.

* * *

Loki reached the peak of the fire exit stairwell on the outside of the building and climbed the regrettably flimsy ladder to the roof, brushing the dust from his clothes as he straightened himself up and scanned the open area. There wasn’t much to see except for a few old, metal air ducts and a door that led presumably to the inner stairwell, and so Loki made his way towards it, finding the lock rusted and weak -  _ easily breakable _ \- he pried it open without too much force, and peered into the dark, dust-filled area.

The musty smell was overpowering, but it hardly bothered Loki, and he gently tapped the earpiece - the sound of a quiet beep indicated the frequency was open.

“I’m inside the building, top level. I don’t suppose you’re aware of which floor they’re keeping the child?” Loki enquired quietly, aware that even a soft voice could carry far within the acoustics of the stair shaft.

_ “Not a clue, you’ll have to search thoroughly and quickly”,  _ Stark responded in his ear swiftly, and Loki sighed, glancing down the deep stairwell with a dry look. The building was fourteen floors high, and rather wide, containing a fair few rooms per level - there was no  _ thorough  _ way to  _ quickly _ search each room, but Loki supposed that dawdling around wouldn’t help matters.

He began to descend, making sure to keep his steps light so that the impact of his footfalls wouldn’t echo, and explored the top three floors without much luck - all he found were empty, crumbling rooms in which ceiling panels had fallen, leaving loose wires to hang precariously out of place, prompting a thought to his mind.

“How are they powering their surveillance? Is electricity still supplied to this building?” Loki asked, fishing for any information that might help move his mission along a little faster.

_ “They’re likely using their own portable generator, in which case their source of power will be close to their surveillance monitors. Break it so that it’s inoperable, we don’t want to give them a chance to restart their system.” _

Loki resumed his perusal of each room he passed before continuing down another level; it was at this point that he finally found something of note. Peering into a large room, Loki identified a man crouched by one of the knocked out windows in the corner, a scopeless rifle at his side with binoculars pressed to his eyes. Loki backed away from the door, taking a few steps down the hallway before contacting Stark.

“There’s a lookout posted on the south side of the building, eleventh floor”, Loki relayed.

_ “Inform us if you find more.” _

“I could take him out and make things easier for you-”

_ “Follow the plan, Loki.” _

With a roll of his eyes, Loki continued to ghost through the floors of the building, reporting every lookout he discovered - so far he had located three watchmen on the South face of the building, two on the East side and two on the North. When he reached floor six and discovered one more of the criminals manning the West side, Loki hesitated to notify Stark; the Western side of the building seemed to be the least watched so far, so if he were to knock this man out then the armed agents could enter the building from said direction without much trouble.

He didn’t see the harm in dealing with things this way, and the satisfaction that came from whacking the man against the back of the neck was entirely rewarding; he lowered the unconscious criminal to floor slowly so as not to make a sound, and continued down to the next floor, finally coming across a wide room filled with security equipment and various weapons on tables. There were three men in the room, as well as a small generator in the corner, and Loki stored this information away for when he had the child safely in his clutches.

“It’s your turn to check on the kid, Aldo”, one of the men spoke gruffly, eyeing the watch on his wrist, and the second man, presumably Aldo, grunted in response, not appearing too happy that he was assigned such a task, “Go. It’s been an hour and it’s your rotation”, the other man continued when Aldo didn’t immediately get up.

“Ugh. I’m looking forward to chopping off that runt’s fingers. Noisy little brat, she is”, Aldo remarked, pushing himself up out of his chair before he padded towards the doorway. Loki took a few solid steps back, allowing the broad, heavy man to trudge past him; the God of Mischief smirked, gladdened that this stocky culprit would lead him directly to the girl.

She was a floor down, and Loki knew this as soon as they were on the same level as her, because she was -  _ singing?  _ \- very loudly and off-key.

_ “Orange and lemons, say the bells of St. Clement’s”,  _ the girl’s voice drifted down the corridor and Aldo let out a frustrated groan, fishing into his back pocket for a key.

_ “You owe me five farthings, say the bells of St. Martin’s”,  _ the shrill voice continued, and Loki felt as though there was a strange glitch in reality. Why was this kidnapped, six-year-old child singing at the top of her lungs?

Aldo came to a stop outside a door, shoving the key into the lock, and Loki hung back, observing. The girl’s singing grew silent as the door swung open and Aldo’s tetchy growl culminated in a harsh shout, “You better shut the hell up, kid!”

The girl sat on a dirty mattress in the corner, hugging her knees to her chest as she watched the man warily, a nervous pout on her lips. She did not speak, letting her big, brown eyes drop to the dusty floor shyly, and Aldo sneered at her again.

“You better hope your daddy loves you enough to pay up. Though with the time it’s taking, I’m startin’ to think he’s glad to have you outta his hands”, Aldo grinned maliciously, a sleazy laugh escaping his throat that caused Loki’s lips to draw back in disgust. There was nothing worse than a classless, disreputable villain.

“What, you don’t feel like singin’ now?” the man taunted as the child shuffled back slightly on the springy bed.

Loki took this brief time to scrutinise the room, searching for any kind of recording equipment that would make rescuing the girl difficult. Surprisingly, the room was bare and lacked any cameras of the sort - something that led Loki to believe this so-called terrorist group was just a bunch of amateurs masquerading as something more dangerous.

Aldo spat on the ground at his feet, glowering at the girl with a look that dared her to open her mouth and start singing again; and the man believed his scowl was enough to deter her from belting out more melodic rhymes.

“Your time’s running out, kid. You should quit singing and start praying”, the man told her, before turning to leave the room; he slammed the door shut and locked it once more, slipping the key into his pocket. As he marched back down the hall, Loki pickpocketed the key with ease, endeavouring to wait until the man had entered the stairwell at the end of the corridor before opening the door to the girl’s enclosure.

Before Aldo was out of sight, the little girl began to sing again, albeit a tad quieter.

_ “When will you pay me? Say the bells of Old Bailey. When I grow rich, say the bells of Shoreditch.” _

An amused smirk reached Loki’s face as he heard Aldo’s growl from all the way down the hall, and as soon as the kidnapper had climbed the stairwell, Loki unlocked the door and moved swiftly into the room. The girl’s mouth fell shut in an instant at the sight of the door opening seemingly by itself, and after a few tense seconds, she leaned over slightly, searching for the being that had unlocked the door.

Loki dropped his spell of invisibility, prompting a startled gasp from the girl who jerked back in fright.

“I’ve found the child”, Loki notified Stark quietly.

_ “Excellent”,  _ came the praising reply, which sounded all-too patronising,  _ “Now deal with the cameras and get her out.” _

“I  _ know”,  _ Loki groused, before scrutinising the child properly for the first time. She was very small, though it may have just been owing to the fact that she was curled up defensively, wearing thin pyjamas caked with grime, that made her look so tiny and helpless. The child stared up at him in a mix of awe and consternation, her mouth agape and her eyes wide with nerves.

Loki offered a hand out to the child, “I’m here to rescue you”, he stated, watching her expression closely. She said nothing, and there did not seem to be a hint of recognition in her gaze - which was expected, given the girl would have been barely a year old during the Chitauri invasion. Loki frowned at her unresponsiveness, eyes narrowing at her extended silence.

“Did you not hear me?” said Loki, irritation plane in his tone, “I said I’m here to rescue you.” 

She didn’t seem over the moon at his proclamation, instead tugging agitatedly at the sleeve of her pyjama shirt as she continued to remain completely still. Apart from the subtle gesture, the girl seemed oddly calm for someone in her predicament, but it could just have been that she did not understand the severity of her situation.

Loki breathed a sigh of exasperation, flexing his hand to her pointedly, “If you want to see your parents again, I suggest you follow me. Now.”

Finally, after far too long, the child spoke. “Mama told me not to talk to strangers”, she sounded hesitant, as if speaking that very sentence to him was a crime, and Loki blinked, lips parting in disbelief.

He’d revealed that he was here to save the girl, and she declined his help because he was  _ a stranger. _ Unbelievable. Midgardian children were idiots.  _ Iron Man and Thor wouldn’t have this problem. _

With a roll of his eyes, Loki squatted in front of the child, “I’m with the Avengers”, he tried, and the child’s eyes lit up ever so slightly, until he continued to say, “Stop being difficult, you’re wasting time.”

The girl pouted, scratching a hand through her frizzy, black hair, looking as though she was contemplating her options -  _ as if she had any options -  _ but ultimately, the distrust was clear on her face.

“What’s your name?” she enquired with uncertainty, and Loki cocked his head, “If you tell me your name then you won’t be a stranger anymore”, she pointed out, and Loki gave her a wry look, because this kid had some rather interesting logic. He supposed, in a sense, she wasn’t wrong.

“My name is Loki”, he answered, “Will you cooperate and follow me?”

The little girl beamed, “I’m Rio”, she squeaked, before looking a little sheepish, “But, uh… no, I can’t follow…”

“What? Why?” Loki wanted to raise his voice, but kept it dutifully level at the risk of alerting the attention of somebody in the building.

Rio pulled her slightly-too-long pyjama leg up to reveal a bruised ankle, “I hurt my foot”, she murmured, “It hurts to walk on…”

_ Fantastic,  _ Loki thought,  _ this complicates things a little. _

“Right”, Loki muttered, “I suppose you’ll need me to carry you, then?” The child ruffled her hair at his obviously reluctant suggestion, shrugging her shoulders bashfully.

_ Great.  _ First, he was prohibited from knocking anyone around, and second, he has to  _ carry  _ a  _ child. Why did he agree to this?  _ It wasn’t that he couldn’t do this entire mission one-handed, but after all, he had his reputation as a  _ ‘villainous little shit’  _ to uphold - Stark’s words, not his.

He wouldn’t hear the end of this.

“Alright, fine”, Loki conceded with a sigh, and wasted no more time. He grabbed the child, shushing her as she let out a squeaky yip, and lifted her so she could sit in the crook of his left elbow. Her tiny arms flew around his neck immediately, latching onto him as though she was afraid he would drop her, and he pointedly adjusted her impressively tight hold so that she wasn’t inadvertently smothering his air pipe.

Loki achieved several steps out of the room before the girl innocently enquired, “Are you a wizard?”

_ “Shh”,  _ Loki hissed, “You have to stay quiet, do you understand?” 

Rio apologetically bit her lip before repeating, in a much softer voice, almost whispering into his ear, “But are you a wizard, though?” Her question had to have been evoked due to the fact that he had appeared out of thin air before her just moments ago.

“No, I’m a  _ sorcerer”,  _ he responded, crossing the hallway with light feet -  _ ‘wizard’  _ seemed too mystical a term, too childish to describe his magical skills. “Doctor Strange is a wizard”, he quipped, his lip curling into a smile.

“Who?” 

“Nevermind. Just be quiet”, he ordered, shifting her weight better as he quickened his pace, climbing the stairs to the next level up.

“Do you have an invisibility cloak like Harry Potter?” Rio ignored his directive, and Loki cut himself off mid-way through chastising her to eye her curiously.

“You’ve read Harry Potter?” He didn’t know why he asked - it was a stupid question that would likely encourage more loud chatter from the girl, which was the opposite of what he wanted.

“My mama read it to me”, she clarified with a wide smile, “I love Harry Potter! Who’s your favourite character? Mine’s Hermione, she has frizzy hair like me-”

_ “Quiet.”  _

Rio pouted, biting her lip as she slumped slightly against his shoulder, and Loki sighed, realising that if he wanted his task to go off without a hitch, he would need the child to listen to him and do exactly as he told her - which meant being a little more amicable.

“Listen to me”, Loki whispered, pausing in the stairwell ahead of the floor in which the three men occupied, “It’s not a  _ cloak,  _ it’s a spell. The men who took you will not be able to see us, but they can still hear us, so I need you to be silent, alright?”

Rio swallowed and nodded timidly.

“...Also my favourite characters are Fred and George.”

The child happily beamed anew, which at the very least meant she might be willing to do as she was told, and Loki peeked through the door leading to the floor housing his next destination, before giving Rio a look of finality.

“Is there anything else you need to say? Because we have to be quiet for a long time”, he kept his voice light and admirably compassionate, giving the child a chance to speak  _ now  _ instead of later.

“Um…”, Rio looked thoughtful for all of two seconds, “Oh! They took my teddy bear, can you save him too?”

Loki blinked, “Your…  _ teddy bear?”  _

Rio nodded wildly, “My toy bear”, she nibbled on her lip, “Please. They took him from me… he might be hurt.”

Loki refrained from telling the child  _ ‘no, time is ticking, and a toy can be easily replaced’,  _ and instead mumbled an indefinite, “If I see it.” It was enough to placate the girl, and she seemed ready to keep her mouth shut so he could resume his mission.

So he did. As he entered the corridor leading to the room, he could pick up on light voices, and tilted his head to better hear the conversation taking place.

“Marco isn’t responding to my radio messages, will you go check on him? Bastard’s probably fallen asleep at his post.” 

“Why do I gotta do everything here?” The unmistakable voice of Aldo drifted down the hall, along with the sound of a chair leg screeching against linoleum floor, and Loki sidestepped out of the way as the man in question marched stroppily out of the room and made his way heavily back towards the stairwell.

If  _ Marco  _ happened to be the man he had knocked out earlier, then that meant Loki did not have much time to carry out the next phase of his plan - still, he didn’t  _ entirely _ regret delivering the swift blow to the back of Marco’s neck - the cretin clearly deserved it, as did every other deplorable offender in the building.

Loki slipped through the open door, assessing what he would do next - he needed to damage the generator, preferably without the men realising it had been damaged, so as not to raise the alarm of somebody intruding on their operation-

Rio squirmed in his hold, and Loki glared at her sharply, tightening his arm around her to get her to quit moving around so much, but instead of growing still, she pointed across the room to a table where one of the men was slouched over a monitor, surveying the feeds of various cameras planted around the premises, and on the surface just behind him - a little pink, stuffed toy lay rather conspicuously among several firearms.

With a warning look, Loki shook his head, pressing a finger to his lips by way of telling the girl hush up - he’d taken long enough as it was, and when he turned to step towards the generator, Rio had the audacity to tug on his hair -  _ the little brat actually tugged on his hair. Ungrateful little wretch.  _ Loki would have given her hair a tug back if he didn’t think the kid would immediately burst into tears and ruin his task.

He held her at arm’s length, shaking his head again -  _ no, he wouldn’t waste time saving a sentimental item -  _ the girl would just have to deal with it. At least, that was his train of thought until Rio’s upper lip began to wobble precariously, evident that she was ready to start wailing should he refuse to rescue her toy.

_ This is absurd,  _ Loki thought, but ultimately surrendered to the girl’s tearful threat.  _ Alright,  _ said Loki’s eyes,  _ I’ll grab your damn bear. _

He crossed the room carefully, practically tip-toeing behind the man at the desk, and realised as he picked up the toy that it was in no way a bear. It was a rabbit - it was  _ clearly  _ a rabbit, with it’s long, floppy ears and fluffy, round tail. He handed it to the girl in his arms, pinning her with weary look, but Rio was far too overjoyed to even notice.

Back to the matter at hand; Loki observed the generator, locating an electrical panel around the back, along with a red switch amongst a compound of many blinky dials and numbered buttons that meant absolutely nothing to Loki. The power controller was clear enough, and he shifted Rio’s weight so that she was leant more on his hip, before pressing the large, red button, which yielded anticipated results.

“What the fuck?” the man at the monitors shouted as everything immediately lost power, and in the time it took him to voice his exclamation, Loki summoned a thin blade and jabbed it straight into the electrical panel, nicking various wires in the process. The damage was minimal, and would likely delay the crooks in registering the problem.

As the man snapped in confused anger, Loki darted from the room - he no longer had reason to stick around, and wanted to get Rio out of his hands as swiftly as possible. As he ascended the stairs briskly, Aldo came into view, still padding up, panting as he went; the man looked back in bafflement at the sound of Loki’s phantom footfalls, and Loki swerved around him, quickly slamming his elbow right into the man’s face, sending him tumbling down the steps, stunned unconscious.

“Take that”, Rio gave a hushed cheer, which actually succeeded in bringing a smile to Loki’s face.

“Mission accomplished, Stark. Their security is out and I’m on the roof with the girl; I  _ assume  _ you’re capable of taking it from here?” Loki informed the billionaire as he reached the peak of the stairwell, exiting out into the breezy night air; Rio tensed at the cold, securing her arm more closely around Loki’s neck as she hugged her stuffed toy close to her chest, endeavouring to absorb any warmth she could.

_ “Message received. We’re moving in now.”  _ Stark responded,  _ “Do us a favour and stay put for the moment while we make arrests, just in case of potential crossfire on ground level.” _

“Whatever.” Loki stepped towards the fire-exit shaft, looking down over the edge where he caught a glimpse of Stark, in the Iron Man suit, zipping around the base of the structure, along with Thor, Banner and a group of agents in fast pursuit.

“Nooooo”, Rio squealed, her hold on Loki’s becoming surprisingly tough as she got an eyeful of the vast distance between themselves and the ground.

“You won’t fall”, Loki assured her, a mocking edge to his tone, but took a few steps back for her own comfort. The God of Mischief looked out across the skyline, unconsciously searching for Amelia’s apartment building, and a forlorn expression must’ve become evident on his face, because suddenly Rio was trying her best to cheer him up.

“That was really cool how you hit that guy in the face”, she remarked, ridiculously cheerful for the ordeal she’d been through. An ultra-fine smirk graced Loki’s lips, and Rio grinned victoriously, “Thank you for saving me and my bear, mister Loki.”

Loki gave a soft snort, “It’s a rabbit.”

“No, bear.”

“Rabbit.”

“Bear.”

“What’s its name?” Loki enquired conversationally.

_ “His  _ name is Bloop.” 

Loki eyed the child as she hugged her toy close and gave it a little kiss on the head, and there was something about her - perhaps her bubbly disposition in the face of peril, or the sweet naivety about her - but she reminded him somewhat of Amelia.

“Bloop, hm? Well, that’s… a very… decorous name. For a rabbit.”

_ “He’s a bear!” _

* * *

“Weird that there were two guys completely KO’ed in the building”, Tony remarked later that night when the group returned to the Avengers Tower following the successful mission. His tone lacked any real bite, it was more playfully sarcastic, if anything, but Loki was hardly in the mood to entertain the man’s teasing humour.

“You witless fool, Stark”, Loki snapped, pausing in the hallway to point an accusatory finger at the billionaire, “How mindless do you have to be to allow  _ press and reporters  _ on the scene? They  _ saw  _ me. By noon tomorrow, the whole world will know that you’re harbouring a criminal!”

“Yeah, they saw you”, Tony shrugged, “They saw you carrying a scared child to safety. That’s what they saw, what’s the big deal?” He looked to Thor and Bruce, raising his eyebrows as if to wordlessly ask them to back him up.

“I mean…” Banner began, “It perhaps wasn’t the most delicate way to reveal to the world that Loki is back”, he too raised his shoulders dismissively, “But at least the image was positive, right?”

Loki growled, shaking his head, “Absolute  _ idiots”,  _ he snarled, turning on his toes to trudge back to his room. After slinking around that dirty, dust-filled structure, he needed a nice,  _ warm  _ bath.

He could sense Thor’s gaze on him as he stalked away, and so the knock on his door several minutes after he reached his room was well-anticipated.

“What?” Loki grumbled, sitting on the edge of his bed after having kicked off his shoes; he wriggled his toes to coax the stiffness out of them, awaiting his brother’s nosy voice outside the hallway.

Instead, Thor merely entered the room unannounced, a knowing expression evident within the creases of his forehead and the pursed line of his lips. Without crumbling under the intense scowl Loki affixed him with, Thor rounded the bed and flopped down into the reading chair opposite, sitting relatively at ease with his arms crossed. 

“It feels good to be the hero, doesn’t it, brother?”

Loki huffed, his face adorned with a sarcastic smile, “And how would I know?”

“Deny it all you want, Loki”, Thor spoke, “But your actions today were irrefutably heroic.”

“So what?” said Loki, “What does it matter? What will it change? Nothing.”

Loki held his brother’s continued stoic gaze, eyebrows narrowed with bitterness, and he could see cogs turning behind Thor’s eye in a way that Loki absolutely despised - it was a look he had become recently acquainted with and one that usually meant Thor was about to make one of his  _ uncharacteristically intelligent _ observations.

“You reject the potential of being seen as a hero because you don’t think you deserve the praise”, Thor stated, an irritatingly smug curl to his lip, acting as if he’d cracked the most arduous of complex conundrums.

“That’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever said”, Loki retorted, smoothing his hand through his hair where Rio had started playing with it some time into their rooftop interval.

“Is it?” Thor challenged, not even trying to hide his shit-eating grin, “Tell me I’m wrong, then.”

“You’re wrong.”

“...Okay, well that doesn’t prove that I’m wrong. That just further highlights your abnegation-”

“Are you finished? Can you leave me in peace so I can cleanse my body of the grime and dross it picked up within that forsaken building?” He projected the derisive sting of his drawling words, forming a thin, unamused line with his lips.

“-and similarly if Amelia was willing to forgive you, you don’t think you would deserve her forgiveness either-”

“Shut up.”

“-because your guilt is crushing and you think your actions during the Chitauri invasion warrant a lifetime of misery for you-”

_ “Enough, Thor!”  _ Loki balled his fists, imagining his fingers wrapped tightly around his brother’s throat as he throttled the life out of him.

The smile on Thor’s face was now sympathetic as he realised the truth in his words, “Brother… even you don’t deserve a lifetime of sorrow. You have worked to redeem yourself, you’ve saved far more people than you’ve killed - you need to realise that while what you’ve done in the past cannot be changed, you can strive to walk the right path  _ now.”  _

“Stop. Just  _ stop”,  _ Loki practically pleaded, because the more Thor said it, the more Loki began to believe it, that he had a chance to right his wrongs and be seen as more than a cold-blooded murderer,  _ and he really didn’t want to get his hopes up. _

“Find her and apologise to her, Loki.”

“She won’t forgive me”, Loki protested, “She hates me, she’ll  _ always  _ hate me.”

“You might be wrong”, Thor pointed out, “You might be making a mountain out of a molehill, brother. She might be itching to forgive you, waiting all this time for you to chase her down and offer the apology she wanted - honestly, the longer you wait, the worse it could be. If I were you, I’d go now.”

Loki rubbed the bridge of his nose, shaking his head at Thor’s inane ramblings, “Gods, what do you want, Thor? Why won’t you just leave me alone, you absolute lout?”

Thor sighed at Loki’s dejected manner, “What I  _ want _ is for you and Amelia to be happy, together”, the God of Thunder virtuously admitted, and his softened expression was tangible evidence that he was being unreservedly genuine.

Loki picked at his hands, rubbing his thumb against his palm distractedly as he rebuffed Thor’s claim with a firm shake of his head, “Brother… the length of her remaining time on this plane of existence is nominal in comparison to mine. Why should I allow myself roughly seventy years of happiness if I’m going to spend the rest of my life  _ missing her?” _

He did not expect his brother to have a sufficient response, but Thor looked at him calmly, his stare full of patience and something that reminded him all too much of their mother. Frigga used to give Loki the same look whenever he was upset and felt as though everybody else was against him - it was the very look she always wore just before she said the exact right words to comfort him.

_ “Because,  _ Loki, you’re going to spend the rest of your life missing her.”

Loki clenched his jaw, pressing his lips together tightly as he averted his gaze from his brother - who was apparently full of surprising wisdom and judgement. “Get out of my room, you oaf”, he choked out, his voice embarrassingly croaky with sentiment, and Thor smiled, knowing that his words were not unappreciated.

The God of Thunder stood and made as if to move, but halted, laying a hand on Loki’s shoulder to squeeze supportively, “You saved a child’s life today, you reunited her with her family. You showed a Midgardian child kindness, and she  _ will  _ remember that for the rest of her life. That’s going to count for something, brother. She will tell people of the day Loki rescued her from the clutches of evil men, and even saved her little toy bear in the process.”

Loki groaned slightly with exaggerated displeasure, his shoulders raising with the heave of his sigh, and before Thor left the room, he spoke with a quiet mumble.

“It was a rabbit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I said, I worked super hard on this chapter to get it out on time, and it's a long one, so I do hope that I will get some wonderful comments from all who read this :)
> 
> You may be interested to know that there's only 4 (ish) chapters left to this particular story, and that I have two sequels planned that I will begin writing immediately after this story is finished. The second part of this series will be inspired by Infinity War, and I have a basic outline, but it could possibly change a little as soon as I actually see the movie. Omg, you guys. It's out in 9 days. But I'm seeing it in 10 days. Prayer circle for Loki, please.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe one day, Amelia would be able to say the words ‘I am the happiest I have ever been’, and it would be the truth. Maybe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everybody, I hope you enjoy this chapter! ;) 
> 
> I have been having multiple mental breakdowns over Infinity War as the big day approaches. I have resorted to comfort eating and hugging hot water bottles to help soothe my troubled mind :') I hope you're all doing better than I am!

_ Are You Okay? _

Amelia’s eyes flickered over the apropos title on the front of the leaflet she’d picked up on her way to the small cafe a short distance from the florist; she’d decided to eat her lunch in a more public space as opposed to the small, cramped staff room that often felt more like a prison than a lounge, and with an idle resolve, she had plucked up a leaflet on psychotherapy as she’d passed the doctor’s surgery.

_ I’m not okay,  _ she thought to herself wryly as she stirred cream into her coffee; she was tired, tired of having to deal with every obstacle life threw at her - it wouldn’t have been so bad if the obstacles were reasonably-sized hurdles every now and again, but they were more like the looming heights of snow-peaked mountains that only made Amelia want to give up and throw in the towel. 

Even getting out of bed to head to work in the morning was akin to scaling the wall of a mile-high ravine without the use of climbing equipment.

_ Impossible -  _ that was how Amelia would describe it. Her struggles were speedily approaching a level that was far beyond her ability to traverse, and she saw no possible way of overcoming her issues of isolation and loneliness.

And yet, she had picked up the leaflet, meaning that there was still a tiny, fighting fragment of her mind that  _ wanted  _ her to take control and do everything she could to combat the spiralling depression she had been once again sucked into.

Despite her exhaustion, a cloudy anger kicked up inside her as she read through the thin pages of the informational pamphlet, growing more reacquainted with the memories associated with her previous therapist; she wasn’t even sure if her anger towards the man had been justified or if it was completely irrational and just a symptom of her frustration at the time.

She’d felt as though her mind had reached an impasse, and that her therapist was the one in denial, telling her that progress was being made while she felt very much trapped in a dead end; the man constantly repeating  _ ‘trust me, we are making headway’,  _ very much the pinnacle of condescension. 

_ Finding it hard to think positively? Lacking motivation? Feeling stressed? _

_ Yes, yes, and yes,  _ Amelia sighed, folding the leaflet to slot into her bag. She would have a more thorough look at the self-referral section that evening, instead of wasting valuable time that could be spent devouring her lunch; she’d already reprimanded herself at forgetting to eat breakfast, and her stomach was ready to protest her negligence with embarrassingly loud rumbles.

Amelia rubbed her weary eyes and turned her attention to the rather delicious looking, toasted cinnamon bagel sitting on the plate before her; as she began to indulge in the spicy-sweet treat, she allowed her mind to wander, vacantly observing the other occupants of the cosy little coffee shop she had sat down in.

She had expected the little cafe to be bustling with life at one o’clock in the afternoon, but there was surprisingly only a few people engaged in their lunch or nattering conversations with each other; Amelia counted a total of six other people, not including the barista. There was a young man and woman, probably in their early twenties, sitting close together in one of the soft-seat booths - most likely a couple given how comfortable they seemed with casual, affectionate touches - and they appeared to be talking animatedly about some topic surrounding the textbook they were reading out of. 

So, Amelia inwardly surmised, they were probably college students. She sighed after swallowing her mouthful of bagel, focusing her gaze on the fond looks the man and woman were sharing; it seemed even long after Valentine’s Day, she still could not escape the presence of  _ other people in love.  _ Still, she averted her stare and tried not to think about it, very conscious of how unfair her stale thoughts on romance might appear to two little lovebirds minding their own business. Amelia did not want to be  _ that  _ kind of person.

At the other end of the cafe, a mother sat with an infant in her arms, and her young, adolescent daughter - probably aged ten or eleven - perched opposite who was currently in the process of picking apart a chocolate muffin and taking meticulous little bites. The sight brought a smile to Amelia’s face; the infant couldn’t have been more than a few months old, and the mother cradled the baby, gently rocking back and forth as she lulled the newborn into a content slumber - she did so with calm experience, like she knew  _ exactly  _ what she was doing.

Amelia had often thought about having children - they were fleeting thoughts that only generally popped up when she was in the presence of babies,  _ which was rarely,  _ and merely looking upon a quiet, adorable newborn’s face was enough to make her brain go  _ ‘I want a baby right now, immediately!’ _ \- a concept that she fought with all her might because she knew above everything that she was nowhere near ready for children, and unless she managed to flip her life around, she never would be. The joy that arose whenever Amelia caught sight of a baby was always followed by the somber realisation that she would probably never have one of her own.

The final inhabitant of the coffee shop, aside from herself, was a middle-aged man in a well tailored suit, tapping away feverishly on his phone - Amelia couldn’t tell if he was a workaholic sending a hysterical email to a coworker or just  _ really  _ enjoying a compelling little app game on his shift break; his expression lacked any countenance, revealing absolutely nothing to a nosy outsider’s point of view, but as a whole, Amelia would describe the man as unapproachable.

There was something about people-watching that brought a small slice of comfort to Amelia; to be reminded that other people existed - that the universe did not revolve around her and her plights, and there were others living their lives even as she struggled with her own, that even though she had no friends or family left around her, she wasn’t entirely  _ alone.  _ She knew nothing of the lives of these people - any one of them could have faced traumatic experiences similar to her own; they could have lost loved ones in harrowing circumstances, they could have spent time feeling like they were completely and utterly unloved, they could have felt the harsh reality of heartbreak and betrayal.

But they could have fought it, and survived their hardships, and they could now be the happiest they’ve ever been in their lives.

Maybe one day, Amelia would be able to say the words  _ ‘I am the happiest I have ever been’,  _ and it would be the truth. Maybe.

She knew, deep down, that that was the reason she had swiped up the psychotherapy leaflet - always looking out for that one restorative spark in a beacon of hope - because if there was even a chance that it could lead to her mental recovery, it was worth it. It was her only choice, really. She refused to see herself fall into a suicidal pit of despair once more.  _ Never again. _

Amelia had thought once that killing herself would stop things from getting worse, but now she realised that wasn’t the case - suicide simply eliminated the possibility of things ever getting better, and despite the constant prod in her mind telling her to just surrender to her sadness, she had been feeling  _ particularly  _ determined the last few weeks.

_ “...known criminal, Loki, is reportedly residing in Manhattan under the watchful eyes of the Avengers…” _

Up until that point, Amelia had very easily drowned out the monotonous voice drifting from the television in the corner of the cafe, but upon hearing  _ that  _ name, she felt her heart almost leap from her chest, her gaze shooting up to the breaking news report at a speed so impressive that it was a miracle she didn’t give herself whiplash.

_ “Tony Stark, CEO of Stark Industries and leader of the Avengers, insists the people of New York have nothing to fear, and that Loki is - I quote - no longer up to his old tricks. We are still waiting for an official, on-the-record statement.” _

Amelia’s eyes twitched, her gaze shifting to the others in the room with a nervous flutter in her stomach; she expected to see horrified looks on the faces around her, but was greeted with unalarmed expressions yielding a mix of vague apprehension and scepticism as they looked upon the television screen.

They didn’t look surprised - was this old news? Did people already know that Loki was back?

At once, she was assaulted by agitating ripples in her chest, forcing her to put down her half-eaten bagel, for there was no chance she could continue to eat it while her stomach was performing constant backflips inside of her.

Amelia had spent over a month avoiding any and all thoughts that had begun to drift towards the man she tried so valiantly to forget, but after the experiences they had shared together, happy memories were not so effortlessly discarded - especially for Amelia, somebody of which happiness did not easily come to. But now, just as Amelia had developed a promising little glint of hope that she could find it in her heart to move on, she was reminded just how much of an influence Loki had had on her.

Amelia took a sip of her still-scalding coffee in an attempt to calm the anxious spasms in her body, struggling to clearly make out every word the news reporter spoke. “Um, e-excuse me?” Amelia called to the barista - a young, asian man with neatly plucked eyebrows - and swallowed the nervous stutter in her mouth as he turned to look curiously at her, “Could you turn the volume up, please?” She pointed to the screen with a shaky hand.

“Sure”, the barista replied, doing just that, and Amelia was suddenly very aware that the young couple to her right were staring directly at her.

Amelia tried to ignore them, instead centering her attention on the ongoing news segment that appeared to be a repeat of an earlier report.

_ “At precisely 10:02 last night, the dangerous individual known as Loki was spotted amongst the Avengers after a successful rescue mission following a kidnapping. The kidnapped child in question, the six-year old daughter of senator Richard Collins, was observed to be unconscious in the clutches of the notorious villain as they approached the scene.”  _ There was a grainy snapshot of the described scenario on the screen, pointing out Loki as he carried the child in his arms, and Amelia felt her jaw hang open at the sight.

“Is this the first you’re hearing of this?” 

She dragged her eyes away from the television as the college girl to her right spoke to her, there was a hint of sympathy in her tone and it was clear that she had deduced Amelia was quite frazzled by the breaking news announcement, but perhaps for the wrong reason entirely. Amelia nodded, her thoughts rushing so vehemently that she wasn’t entirely trusting of her voice at that moment.

“It’s been all over the news since early this morning, everyone’s been talking about it, I’m surprised it still hasn’t reached everyone”, she remarked, and Amelia gave an uncomfortable, restrained hum in response, looking slowly back to the newscast for any further information. She wasn’t entirely connected with reality, never one to sit down and watch the news or browse the internet for current events, nor did she really find the need to eavesdrop on the gossip of people around her, so that was why she was only just now hearing about Loki’s return apparently going public - and aiding the Avengers, no less.

At least, that’s what Amelia inferred from the blurry image offered - the correspondent seemed to pointedly remind everyone that Loki was a wanted criminal.

“What happened, exactly?” Amelia enquired to the couple when the newswoman began to refresh the memories of the events that took place five years prior, recounting all the destruction and deaths that Loki was abundantly responsible for.

“Well, from what I understand”, the girl’s boyfriend quickly interjected, sounding very opinionated, “Loki is helping out the Avengers now, because he’s  _ suddenly  _ had a change of heart”, he sounded dubious as he spoke, flipping his blond bangs out of his eyes, obviously forking sarcasm into his words, “I mean, look at the guy, he’s got to have ill intentions. You don’t just change from a homicidal maniac to a charitable hero overnight.”

Amelia could sense from the way the girl eyed her boyfriend that there had been some debate between them regarding the occurrence, and that they didn’t see eye to eye on Loki’s supposed altered alignment. She had to admit, she did not expect to see Loki assisting those who he once deemed as lesser beings _ ‘that were made to be ruled’. _

“Come on, Dean”, the girl mumbled, “I never said he was a  _ charitable hero, _ I just said that he might be turning over a new leaf, trying to make up for what he did in the past-”

“Sarah, he’s a literal psychopath”, Dean argued, “Don’t try and humanise him. He  _ isn’t  _ human, you know.”

Amelia drowned out the quarrelling couple, trying to swim through her own rampant thoughts; had the Avengers actually convinced Loki to reform and better himself for the benefit of humanity? Or was there a hidden agenda? Was Loki only appearing helpful and altruistic in front of a camera because he believed she might come running back to him if he carried out a few good deeds?

This was too much to mull over, and Amelia’s lunch break was almost over, she needed to return to the florist and finish her shift - but God knows how she was going to fall back into the monotony of serving customers while this development was stewing away in her mind.

“Oh, hey-” the girl, Sarah, spoke up as Amelia rushed to collect her belongings, “You should totally check out the original footage and draw your own conclusion. Don’t let a bias news reporter tell you how you should feel”, she advised, offering a small, empathetic smile.

Amelia was floored with the populace’s ability to remain composed and continue about their day despite the potentially worrying news that Loki had returned - when she’d discovered the truth, she had been rife with panic and fear. It was slowly occurring to her that maybe she had the tendency to overthink and make brash assumptions.

There was something placating about the way this stranger spoke to her, and she felt a wave of welcomed geniality from this woman who offered her words with the intent to encourage the alleviation of fear.

“I don’t understand”, Amelia murmured, “Why are you all so calm?” She glanced around the cafe as various eyes turned to her - even the young girl with her chocolate muffin turned around as she was inadvertently addressed.

“I trust Tony Stark knows what he’s doing”, Sarah responded, a ray of sanguineness in her friendly eyes, “I don’t think he would stand for Loki being back on Earth if he felt he was a liability, which means we clearly don’t know all the facts. Stark’s supposed to be making a formal statement later, so before you get flustered, wait and see what he has to say.” She turned to her boyfriend with a pointed look and even he admitted the truth in her words with a nod of his head and a roll of his eyes.

“The girl’s right, lady. We don’t have time to run around like headless chickens”, said the middle-aged man sitting at the counter by himself, “This is America! Life is constantly on the move. There’s no  _ good or bad people,  _ there’s just people that do good or bad things and we need to accept that this Loki fellow might be a lot more complex than everybody originally thought.”

Amelia blinked, nodding lightly before turning her attention to the mother and her two children near the back of the cafe. The mother looked admittedly concerned, a troubled expression on her face as she worried her lower lip with her teeth, but it was her young daughter that spoke up.

“We don’t need to be scared. Thor won’t let any bad things happen to us, and if he believes that his brother can be good, then I believe so too”, she stated, licking her lips free of chocolate, “My mum was scared too, but I told her that the Avengers will look out for us - because it’s true! No matter what happens, they’ll protect us!” Ah, the optimism of a child - Amelia missed such positive thinking.

The girl’s mother smiled at her words, evidently proud of her child’s brave disposition, but the presence of trepidation was still very apparent in her expression, and Amelia bit her lip, allowing a wobbly smile onto her face at the young girl’s wholesome proclamation.

Amelia looked curiously to the asian man behind the counter, who was leaning against it with his arms crossed, a bright look on his face, wondering if he had any words he wanted to throw in as the rest of these people offered gratuitous, amiable enlightenment.

The barista smiled apologetically, shaking his head with a shrug of his shoulders, “I’m not good at comforting people, but, uh, I agree that you shouldn’t agonise over what  _ might  _ happen - just continue with your day and try not to fret, miss.”

Amelia bit her lip as she smiled, a little sentimental by the comforting words of these strangers, and wiped her eyes free of her welling emotions, uttering an impassioned  _ ‘thank you so much’  _ to the group before she went on her way, walking back to the florist with newfound assurance.

Every so often, something would happen that would restore her faith in the world she lived in - for example, despite the fact that this group of people had misinterpreted Amelia’s apprehension as a whole different kind of fear, her heart was warmed by how easily they came together to try and soothe her worries, even though she had never met them before.

Things weren’t always black and white, as the middle-aged man had helpfully implied, everything had convoluted layers that Amelia was too stubborn to actually focus on and pick apart - she made audacious presuppositions that did nothing but fuel her anxiety and her anger and her sorrows.

Amelia had made an assumption about the sweet, academic couple sat in the booth - they looked to be ludicrously sappy, utterly captivated by their love for each other, perhaps to the point that they would allow their hearts to rule them instead of their brains, but the opposition had in fact been true - they were young and fond of each other, but they had their own opinions, they had disagreements and stood by their beliefs just like anybody should.

She had assumed the experienced mother was the picture of composure, collected and tranquil in the face of her children, the type who knew exactly what to do when a problem arose, and whose advice was followed completely and without question. But the mother had simply been wearing a mask to cover her fear over the fact that the once-villainous Loki was back again, and her young child had been the one to quell her worries, and had perhaps even convinced her mother to take them to the cafe under the promise that the Avengers would ensure nothing bad came upon the city.

Then there was the man in the tailored suit, appearing as though he had no time for idle chit-chat, too busy working on his phone - or playing an addictive app game - to even give somebody else the time of day. But she had been wrong again. The middle-aged man had offered her insightful words of reassurance in response to the bubbling distress of a woman he did not know. Amelia’s judgement was not always right.

Humanity as a whole was strong, and perhaps she could be too.

* * *

The first thing Amelia did when she returned home that evening was turn on her laptop and scan the internet for the original report that had broadcasted in the early hours of the day, making sure to flick over to the news channel on her television for Tony Stark’s imminent address to the general public.

It didn’t take her long to unearth the original, raw footage, and Amelia felt her heart pound in her chest as she hovered over the ‘play’ button, before mustering up her nerve and clicking on the trackpad.

The image was clearer than it had appeared on the small television screen in the cafe earlier in the day, and Amelia watched raptly as the scene played out. Her eyes went immediately to Iron Man, with his shiny red suit automatically drawing attention, and beside him, Loki walked, holding the rescued child securely in his arms, with Thor and Bruce Banner to his left.

Amelia’s hand rose to her mouth and she fidgeted, nibbling on the skin of her fingers as she squinted to absorb Loki’s appearance, her gaze particularly focused on his body language and that of the others around him. She could make out that Loki was dressed in leather armour of dark colours, and that he walked rather stiffly, his face revealing an almost tired look of irritation as Tony Stark spoke to him.

It was difficult to tell what was being said between them - they were so far from the camera that they had yet to notice it, and the movement of the image was a little clunky, making it impossible to even attempt to read Stark’s lip movements, but the billionaire had a complacent smile on his face so it could only have been something smug.

Thor looked happy, watching his brother with an undoubtedly pleased grin - even though Loki did not glance his way at all - and his gaze occasionally flitted to the sleeping child slumped in Loki’s protective grip. As clear as day, Amelia could tell that Thor was proud of his brother.

Banner stepped alongside them, hands in his pockets, his hair in quite a hectic state, and Amelia wondered if he’d transformed into the Hulk during his mission or if there had just been a tremendous amount of ducking’n’diving; regardless, the man wore a subdued smirk, listening amusedly to what Stark was saying.

As they grew closer, the camera zoomed out slightly, revealing several cars and faceless individuals, as well as an ambulance and a couple paramedics that were presumably there to examine the child for any injuries. When Loki caught sight of the medics, he shifted his hold on the girl, ignoring Stark as he prepared to transfer the child over to the care of the medical professionals, but the little girl stirred, her grip around his neck loosening briefly as she awoke, before growing tight once again, like she didn’t want to let him go.

From this, Amelia could only extrapolate that the girl felt comfortable with Loki, which further implied that he treated her amicably throughout the rescue mission, and that thought alone set her heart aflutter. 

_ Funny how the news report that afternoon hadn’t thought to show  _ **_this_ ** _ part of the footage. _

Loki pried the girl’s hands from his neck, gentle but firm, and handed her to one of the paramedics despite her protests, a surprising note of patience on his face as he dealt with the squirming child - and as he let her go, a stuffed toy fell from her clasp. Before the child had even registered that her teddy had taken a tumble, Loki bent down to retrieve it, returning it safely to her care.

The simple gesture was submerged in selflessness and kindness, two pure traits that Loki passionately refuted were at all a part of him, and yet this footage was unequivocal evidence that he  _ did _ harbour the potential for goodwill.

And to see him conduct this benevolence for a child, well, it was sweet and honourable, and begged Amelia to view him in a new light -  _ that was, if he wasn’t simply putting on an  _ **_act_ ** _ to appear praiseworthy to the rest of the world. _

The cameraman, in a moment of boldness, stepped closer, and a woman holding a microphone appeared in view as they apparently mustered up the courage to approach the once-villain, though it was clear from their slow steps and rigid movements that they were still very much afraid of Loki.

There was a brief second in which Tony Stark’s voice became perceptible as he said a few words to Loki, but it was just incomprehensible audio, and it was promptly cut off as Stark motioned the journalist to come closer. Loki turned just as the woman began to speak, a vague expression of bewilderment flickering over his face before he noticed the camera.

_ “H-hi, I’m Laura Simmons with GNN News-”  _ She didn’t get any further before a frightened yelp escaped her mouth as Loki swatted the camera away.

_ “Point that thing at me again and you will regret it”,  _ was Loki’s muffled threat as the camera was camera image showed only the ground, the journalist obviously having taken the intimidating remark with all the seriousness it entailed.

The cursory sound of Tony Stark trying to reason with Loki could be heard, followed swiftly by Loki barking a rather articulate insult towards the CEO, and the recording promptly reached its end.

Amelia closed her laptop and exhaled a taxed sigh, mulling over what she had just witnessed; Loki had appeared decent up until the end of the recording, but she supposed he had been caught off-guard, and it seemed as though Stark had set him up for something that he had no prior knowledge about, so she could hardly blame him for his brusque reaction.

She blinked as something clicked - his response to realising he was being filmed had been ultimately genuine, angry and vexed, which implied he hadn’t known the camera was going to be there at all, so his amiability  _ was  _ authentic.

Amelia hung her head, rubbing her eyes as her head pounded from the stress of her situation; Thor had not lied to her - Loki was not adept at expressing his emotions, he had trouble communicating his remorse, and instead threw up a pretence of resentment to cover his uncertainty. 

Loki  _ did  _ care about her. She had seen the regret in his eyes for a transitory moment when he had returned to his more human-like form, however, she had doubted her observation, thinking she must have imagined it. But it had been  _ real,  _ and this footage was the final proof of that.

“Oh, Loki, you absolute ass”, Amelia coughed out as thick emotions brewed in her throat; she was a mess of sentiment, guilt and ambivalence, unsure of what she was supposed to think and whether it was a good idea to follow her heart or to follow her head.

The irresolution did nothing to help her speedily growing ache behind her eyes, and she laid her head down on the arm of the couch with the trifling hope that she could stave off an unwanted migraine.

There was a commotion from the television, revealing that Tony Stark was about to make his address to the worried populace, and as he approached a microphone upon a podium in the perfect picture of composure, the surrounding journalists and reporters began to cry out questions.

He silenced them with a raise of his hand, demonstrating the impressive height of his influence, and Amelia snorted.

_ “People of Manhattan, you have nothing to worry about”,  _ he proclaimed.  _ “It is true, Loki is currently living in the Avengers Tower, and has been for several months now.” _

There was a thrum of gasps and chattering, and Tony rolled his eyes before continuing,  _ “My point is, Loki has been here for months, and has shown precisely zero intent to cause harm. I have very good reason to believe Loki has…”  _ he trailed off, searching for the right words,  _ “...altered his morals. He recognises the wickedness of his actions five years ago and wishes only to make up for them.” _

Amelia got the feeling that Stark hadn’t previously consulted with Loki over this speech, and that he was somewhat winging it, telling the people what they wanted to hear while not necessarily speaking any lies.

Tony gave the whole spiel, empathising with the people of Manhattan while simultaneously urging them to trust the Avengers with their future plans for Loki, but there came a moment where Stark paused, and looked directly at the camera as he spoke.

_ “Loki is… complicated, it’s true, but if you saw the way he handled our most recent assignment, then you have seen the Loki who is willing to better himself, not for the sake of redemption, but for the sake of humanity.” _

His words resonated with Amelia, and she felt as though Stark was talking specifically to her; she felt nothing but the veracity of his speech. Loki had not concerned himself with looking righteous before the camera, he had concerned himself with the safety of the little girl he had rescued.

Tony looked agitated for a moment as his eyes flitted across the crowd of people in front of him and he gave a muted sigh before mumbling, “I’ll take questions now.” Immediately, everyone starting calling out at once, and Amelia deduced that this was perhaps the CEO’s least favourite moment about giving a formal address.

Amelia switched the television off, knowing she had heard everything she needed to hear, and she picked up her phone, tapping the photo album icon to view her most recent pictures. She quickly located the picture she had been searching for - the image she had captured, what felt like years ago now, but was only a few months, of herself and Loki sitting on a bench in Central Park.

She’d known him as James back then, and she’d been astonishingly happy, full of hope and excitement, completely oblivious to the storm that would eventually come.

Amelia let out a tired giggle amid her sniffles as her eyes drew across Loki’s face in the picture - his eyebrows were raised, an inkling of curiosity in his gaze where she had snapped the picture just before he’d grown aware of what she was doing.

She missed him,  _ and it really sucked to admit that to herself, given everything he had done to her. _

Her eyes slipped closed as tears dribbled down her cheeks.

_ “You don’t just change from a homicidal maniac to a charitable hero overnight”,  _ the guy from the coffee shop had logically pointed out, and it was true - things like that just did not happen, but Amelia knew something he didn’t know.

Loki hadn’t just changed overnight. He had changed over a series of nights, a stem glass of red wine in hand with nothing but the unassuming, friendly company of somebody who did not judge him upon sight.

“Fuck”, Amelia whispered, not even bothering to try and restrain her tears. Her head hurt, her mind was all discombobulated with thoughts trailing in at every angle, and it was difficult to navigate the labyrinth of her mind to find out how she truly felt.

_ She needed a drink. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As this is the final update before Infinity War comes out, I ask that if you do see the film, please don't post any spoilers or discussion of it in the comments below! I will be seeing it on Saturday evening, and if you wanna chat about it then you can message me on my tumblr (http://kumikoseph.tumblr.com) or my twitter (https://twitter.com/Clarestovold) and we can have a nice private discussion over it where it can't be spoiled for anybody else! ;)
> 
> Good luck everyone... for the inevitable shitstorm Thanos will bring lmao
> 
> LOVE YOU ALL <3


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m sorry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man... fuck Infinity War. Fuck it so hard.

It was funny how one drink could turn into two drinks, and how two drinks could turn into three, and so on. Or, well, maybe it wasn’t so funny given Amelia’s troubling history with alcohol, but it certainly was  _ interesting  _ how quickly one could lose the logical side to their brain when faced with a distressing conundrum. 

Alcohol did well to lessen the emotional suffering in Amelia’s mind - it dulled her senses to the point where her plaguing thoughts did not yield the same level of torment and affliction as they did when she was sober; everything seemed just a little lighter and less significant when she was drunk - which she was.

She would deal with the shame of her relapse in the morning when her thoughts were not swathed in liquor, along with the thrumming headache that would only work to empower her feelings of failure - for now she was content to throw her problems out the window, curl up on the couch and imagine that her life was not a cruel amalgamation of stress, unbalance and bitterness.

Amelia blinked her bleary eyes, trying to fight the way her vision seemed to ripple and distort -  _ were there really eight bottles of alcohol on her coffee table or was she just seeing double? _ \- and her stomach gave a discomforting lurch as she shifted slightly, but thankfully managed to refrain from emptying the contents of her belly.

Her apartment was cold and the material of her pyjamas was thin; she wholly regretted not dragging her duvet out into the living room to join her on the couch  _ before  _ consuming a ridiculous amount of alcohol, because she sure as hell wasn’t going to make it to her bed in her current condition.

She wriggled her icy cold toes, wondering if the numbness in them was a result of the low temperature in the room, or something to do with the copious glasses of booze she had knocked back; there was a contrasting warmth in her lower chest, almost burning, but not quite in a way she could describe as pleasant.

Amelia groaned, rolling onto her side, tightly clawing at the cushion she was using as a pillow, and closed her eyes; she would hate herself when awoke in the morning.

* * *

 

The feeling of something brushing against Amelia’s ankle brought her back to consciousness, and she found that her mind was clearer now than it had been when she fell asleep. She blinked her eyes open, quickly retracting her foot with a short jerk, and let out a soft noise of nervous confusion; squinting through the brightness of the ceiling light, Amelia caught sight of the vague shape of a person sitting across from her on the opposite side of the sofa.

A yelp caught in her throat as she made the sudden movement to recoil away, but grew still the moment she recognised the man before her.

The identification of his face brought with it a painful ache in Amelia’s chest, and her hand flew to her heart as she felt it pump furiously behind her ribs; the man wore a sympathetic smile on his face as he looked at her with eyes so deep and drowning in melancholy.

Tidy, short brown hair, sleek and rimless glasses, blue eyes she had not seen in so long; Amelia’s mouth fell open, shocked surprise culminating in an incoherent babble as she tried to force words from her mouth.

“Ah-  _ Aaron?”  _

Amelia blinked a few times fast, her eyes darting around the room briefly before once again landing on her brother. Her  _ dead _ brother, who was sitting right in front of her. He looked very much alive, dressed in a typical pair of black jeans and a blue shirt, dimples either side of his cheeks as he beamed at her like nothing was out of the ordinary.

“Hey, Ammy.”

It had been so long since she’d heard her brother’s voice in person, and even longer since he’d called her by his favourite nickname; Amelia felt her eyes well up at once, her breath stunted with the heavy emotion building in her throat, and she cupped her mouth with her hand as tears flooded down her cheeks.

“Oh, God”, Amelia whimpered, “Am I dead? Did I drink too much?” She pulled her legs up, hugging her knees as she shook with crippling uncertainty.

Aaron frowned, eyes widened just a fraction before he shook his head, forcing a smile back in place, “You’re not dead. You’re very much alive, Amelia. But yeah... you  _ did  _ drink too much”, he kept his voice light, but Amelia could tell there was something else underlying his tone, and she hoped it wasn’t  _ disappointment.  _

“I’m sorry”, Amelia whispered, sniffling as a sob tore from her throat, “I’m sorry, I just…” she didn’t have a good excuse, she’d simply been too weak to resist falling back into her alcohol-dependant ways. 

“It’s alright”, Aaron said, shimmying down the couch so that he was sat closer, and he placed a tender hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently to offer comfort, “You’re alright, it’s okay”, he attempted to calm her, but Amelia’s chest felt tight, and the creeping sensation of failure was inching up her spine, which made her brother’s words practically useless. 

Amelia coughed out a sob, and flung herself at him, repeating a litany of apologies at her shameful state, and immediately Aaron closed his arms around her and rubbed her back soothingly, allowing her to wail until she tired herself out and fell quiet, except for the occasional hiccup. 

The logic of Amelia’s mind caught up with her, and she realised that nothing about this scenario was possible; the last thing she’d done was fallen asleep, so it wasn’t too arduous for her to put two and two together. She had not yet awoken from her liquor-enveloped nap, but that didn’t mean she would give up the chance to embrace her fallen sibling.

“I miss you”, Amelia breathed, inwardly grappling for control over her tremulous inhales, but all that came out were sharp, involuntary gasps.

“I know”, Aaron replied, “I’m here now”, and it sounded so insistent, like he was truly back from beyond the grave, but Amelia knew better - she wasn’t  _ that  _ naive. Ghosts weren’t real,  _ were they? _

“But not forever”, Amelia murmured, rubbing her wet eyes against his shoulder in a vague attempt to dry them, “You’ll be gone tomorrow.”

Aaron breathed a sigh, the hand patting Amelia’s back having slowed to a stop, “I know it’s difficult, Amelia. It’s hard to let go, but you must”, his voice was soft and his words were delicate, expressing his remark as carefully as possible, as though he was afraid to speak too forcefully.

“I don’t want to”, Amelia sniffed, “I don’t want to forget you, you’re my brother, I can’t just forget you”, she squeaked; she did not like the way Aaron spoke - as if there was any way she could just abandon the memory of the only person who had been consistently there for her when she needed him - up until he’d lost his life.

“Not  _ forget, _ Ammy, never forget. But you cannot spend the remainder of your life dwelling on the loss of mine”, he explained carefully, his tone warm with kindness and solicitude, “It cannot be changed, unfortunately, but I do not want you to waste your time wishing things were different.”

Amelia swallowed thickly, pulling her head away from Aaron’s shoulder to press her hands to her eyes, trying to persuade herself to stop crying, “You don’t know how hard that is when I have no one else.” She looked up at him with wide, glistening eyes which were quickly becoming puffy and sore.

A flicker of guilt flashed through Aaron’s eyes and he shook his head slightly, “You aren’t alone, Amelia… you’re never alone.”

“But I  _ am  _ alone”, Amelia weeped, fresh tears spilling from her eyes, “I’ve been alone for years. My life fucking  _ sucks”,  _ her voice cracked on the last word and she hid behind her hands again, “I… I don’t know what to  _ do _ now.”

Aaron fell completely silent, and after a few wordless moments, Amelia thought he had disappeared, as was usually the case whenever her brother popped up randomly in her dreams, but when she lowered her hands, he sat there still, watching her with a look of determination and understanding.

“I know that moving on after experiencing such a heavy loss is by no means straightforward, Ammy, but I also know that you are strong, and that you  _ want  _ to push through it - you are not as helpless and lost as you think you are”, Aaron smiled encouragingly, resting his hand back on Amelia’s shoulder, “You are entitled to happiness, Amelia. Contrary to what you might believe, you won’t find it in the bottom of a bottle of whiskey.”

Amelia shook with a bitter laugh, shaking her head at her brother’s whimsical-sounding words, “I know. I know, but it’s not that simple. I tried to chase happiness and it didn’t end well. Everytime I find something good, there always seems to be a catch”, she sniffled, pinching the bridge of her nose to try and alleviate the pressure behind her eyes, “Any happiness I think I’ve found just turns to sadness in the end.”

Aaron shook his head, a meaningful glimmer in his eyes, “That’s why it’s important that you don’t give up”, he expounded, “Keep reaching for it, eventually it will stay with you.”

She sighed, rubbing her hands over her damp face, “You’re just talking nonsense”, it didn’t surprise her that she was having trouble grasping the words her brother was telling her - they didn’t belong to him anyway, every utterance from his mouth was just a spurious attempt at insight from her own unconscious and intoxicated mind.

A slight simper pulled at Aaron’s lips, “Ahh, I’ll try and be clearer”, he declared, before humorously raising his voice as if he were speaking to somebody who was hard of hearing, “Don’t sit here and drink yourself to death. Get out of this apartment and pursue what makes you happy.”

Amelia snickered at his rudimentary attempt to make her laugh while trying to squeeze some sort of life lesson into his words, “I can’t”, she stated plainly.

“Why not?”

“It’s like two o’clock in the morning.”

Aaron rolled his eyes, blowing air out of his mouth in theatrical frustration, “You know what I meant… dummy.”

Amelia tried to force herself to smile, but her expression fell of its own accord and her eyes slipped shut defeatedly as she let out a sigh, “I can’t.”

“Yes,  _ you can,  _ Amelia.”

_ “I can’t”,  _ she contended rather miserably.

“Why, Ammy?”

Amelia stopped trying to quell her tears and just let them fall freely, allowing the coalescence of lamentation and suffering to seep out of her alongside her next few words, “Because he killed you.”

The room fell silent, and Amelia could hear the atmospheric sounds from the streets of Manhattan all the way from the eleventh floor of her apartment building, even at the late hour; her heart pounded suddenly as she became aware of the strangely distinct detail of background noise.

Aaron stared at her, a tight knit in his eyebrows, his gaze imploring for an explanation.

The tears on Amelia’s cheeks began to cool uncomfortably against the heat of her skin and she used her arm to brush away the salty streaks trailing down her jaw, “I’m a horrible person”, she whispered.

This further confused her brother and he shook his head adamantly, “Now you are the one who’s speaking nonsense.”

Amelia released a sharp, sour laugh, her chuckles enfolded with shameful weeps and whimpers, “I’m the worst sister ever”, she sputtered, self-deprecation flooding back so naturally to her - it seemed as though it had been a lifetime since she’d last uttered any sort of deplorable insult towards herself, so it was about time she jogged her memory of how screwed up she was.

“That’s enough, Amelia. Calm down”, Aaron told her, his cadence firm but ultimately caring.

She hadn’t realised her breaths had started coming out a little quicker; her face scrunched up as she attempted to steady her respiration, eyes shut tight as she tried to push back the need to admit what was creating such a troubling conflict in her mind.

There was one thing - one thing so desperately bothering her. It had sat bubbling in her mind ever since she’d stormed from the Avengers Tower in anger and heartbreak; she hated herself for it - but she had to get it off her chest. Aaron was sat before her - Amelia didn’t know for how long - so this may have very well been her last chance in a long time to get this plight off her chest.

“Aaron”, Amelia murmured, her throat spasming and twitching uncomfortably as if her body was trying to force her not to assert what she so desperately needed to confess, “I still love him.” 

She covered her face to avoid the judgement she expected to see in her brother’s eyes; Amelia wasn’t sure she could survive the pain Aaron must have felt from her statement -  _ to love the man that ended his life?  _ Surely, he would feel forsaken.

The atmosphere seemed rigid all of a sudden, and another sob threatened to rip itself from Amelia’s throat; she wondered if her brother would be gone the next time she lifted her head - he was a patient man, but Amelia doubted that even the fictional visage of Aaron cooked up by her own mind would sit by and offer comfort after such a declaration.

When the quietude became too much, Amelia peeked through her fingers to find Aaron’s squinting blue eyes, filled with heed and surprise from the revelation, resting heavily upon her, and immediately she began to shake.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry”, she whispered, “I’m sorry Aaron-” She was struck with panic and self-hatred, a rising fear within her exuding from the fact that she had greatly wounded the man who had always treated her with unconditional love and care.

Amelia felt his hands grip tightly around her upper arms, and flinched reflexively, shutting her eyes tightly as she prepared for an onslaught of loud, cruel words, or maybe even a slap across the face - perhaps in order to knock some sense into her - but of course, nothing like that came. Aaron had never been violent in his life, nor had he snapped at Amelia in spite; sure, they had had the odd skirmish like any  _ normal  _ siblings, but her brother had never -  _ would never -  _ intentionally hurt her, even if she said or did something to hurt him.

“Amelia”, Aaron shushed her, “You are not a horrible person, or a bad sister. Please do not ever think that about yourself”, he held her securely, making sure she could see the truth in his eyes, the undisguised  _ honesty  _ on his face, and Amelia’s shuddering breaths took a pause.

“You… you don’t hate me?”

Blue eyes softened, “I could never hate you.” 

It felt as though a weight had been lifted, and Amelia’s mouth fell open with incredulous relief; of course Aaron -  _ good, benevolent, compassionate Aaron -  _ could never harbour any ill will for his little sister, especially when she was so lost and torn up over her own feelings.

Having calmed herself a little at Aaron’s lucid affirmation, Amelia nodded, breathing deeply as she regained control of her ever-fluctuating emotions.

“I just feel stuck, I don’t know what to do, Aaron”, she admitted softly, “I want to forgive him, but I… all the things he’s done… I don’t know if I  _ should.”  _ She bit her lip, trying to reach some sort of elucidation that would ease her troubled mind; she felt more composed now, the impregnable hold of her brother somehow enforcing a sense of calm within her. “Do you think Loki deserves my forgiveness?”

Aaron’s eyes briefly fell, his thoughts running like clockwork behind his gaze, and he appeared to be carefully searching his head for advice that could offer Amelia’s unsettled mind some respite; after a few soundless minutes, he tentatively opened his mouth and replied, “That… is for you, and you alone, to decide.”

Amelia’s face scrunched up, wishing she could get a candid, non-cryptic answer from her dear brother, “That doesn’t help”, she mumbled, releasing a weary sigh.

“Alright…” Aaron continued, “Ask yourself, Ammy… is he  _ worthy  _ of your love?”

Amelia had never seen such a concentrated, serious expression on her brother’s face; she swallowed as she mulled over the question.

Loki had lied to her, assumed a fake identity and lured her into a false sense of security, he’d snapped hurtful words at her when she’d confronted him at Avengers Tower, trying his utmost to push her away, and he had yet to apologise for the grim fate that had befallen her brother at his own hands.

But when Loki had shown his  _ true  _ form to her, he had also inadvertently bared the hurricane of emotions storming behind his vermilion eyes, revealing a window into his soul that Amelia saw through as clear as day - she had  _ seen  _ the pain and remorse fighting to escape the strong barrier he had erected in his mind,  _ if only he’d cast aside his pride and expressed his regret. _

Loki had saved her life and comforted her when she needed it so desperately, he’d made her laugh, brought back a spark of hope that had fled her mind, and Amelia had had so much fun in his company, feeling wanted and appreciated. 

He’d made her feel like she was worth something.

“I- I… I don’t  _ know”,  _ she gritted her teeth together, frustrated with her inner dispute, “I’ve never felt for anyone the way I feel for  _ him…  _ what if I turn away from him and never find anyone else?  _ I don’t want to spend my life alone, _ I-”

“Amelia”, Aaron grounded her before she could careen into another fit of anxious panic, “Do not ever doubt your worth”, he told her with resolution. He smiled, but his eyes were doleful, “If you choose to decide that Loki is due your forgiveness, then make him work for it. Don’t make it easy for him. Make sure he knows that he has a lot to atone for - and if he ever makes you feel anything but irreplaceable… _show him how wrong he is.”_

Amelia felt her lip quiver as she heard her brother’s praise. She truly had missed Aaron so much, and to hear him speak once again, as he did when he was alive, made her heart pump with admiration.

“Do not go to him  _ just _ because you don’t think anyone else in this world would be lucky to have you. Go to him  _ only  _ if you wish it.” His assertion resonated in Amelia’s mind, and she sunk against him, pining for a consoling hug, which he promptly gave her; she felt so much better than she had before she’d fallen asleep.

“I wish this was real”, Amelia murmured softly, rubbing her cheek against the soft material of Aaron’s shirt, “this is all just happening in my head, isn’t it?”

Her brother was quite for a few suspiciously long moments, before he answered with a smile in his voice, “Of course it’s happening inside your head, Amelia. But why on Earth should that mean it is not real?”

Amelia blinked slowly, the room around her growing blurry, and she steadily became aware of the pleasant warmth that completely encompassed her; her eyes slipped closed, the world around her becoming dark as she felt her surroundings gradually dissolve away into a peaceful sleep.

When she awoke the next morning, wrapped comfortably in a blanket, to the sight of the copious bottles of alcohol on her coffee table having been replaced with a simple glass of water, Amelia realised that it had not been a dream at all.

* * *

When evening came around, a soft and subtle knock made Amelia pause - her mug of coffee suspended halfway between the table and her mouth - and she hesitantly set it back down, drawing her gaze towards the source of the gentle tap.

She knew of only one person who rapped so considerately against her door.

Amelia rose cautiously, gathering the courage to make her way timidly to the entrance of her apartment, and took a deep breath; she had been expecting this, and with her hand as steady as she could make it, she opened the door to find… nobody.

She blinked, a flutter of disappointment passing through her, because she had been so sure that Loki would come - hoped that he would garner the nerve to finally apologise for all he had done to her - except, no, all that greeted her was an empty hallway.

Not entirely empty, she registered after a few moments as she noticed something sitting in her peripheral vision; looking down, she stared at the bouquet of white lilies lying virtuously at her feet, and her cheeks grew warm with unbridled sentiment. Her eyes became glossy of their own accord, but a few controlled blinks banished the moisture away - she had shed enough torturous tears, and she would not cry anymore, not out of sadness.

Amelia picked up the flowers so delicately, afraid that they would break apart should she handle them too roughly, and breathed in their light, floral scent; it was no great mystery as to who had left these flowers outside her door, and while a searching glance down the hallway revealed nobody, she could sense Loki’s presence, could feel his green gaze on her as clear as crystal.

“Loki”, she said, “I know you’re there.”

Silence.

“Will you show yourself, please?” She kept her tone balanced, concealing the wavering emotions all weaving uncomfortably together in her stomach.

More silence ensued, and just when Amelia had begun to think she was genuinely talking to an empty corridor, there was a flicker of green light; there he stood, near the corner that turned to the elevator, in his hallmark black suit. Loki.

He stood with his arms at his sides, a detached and aloof visage, but Amelia knew better, biting the inside of her cheek as she took a step back into her apartment and held the door open. She didn’t need to say anything, he took the invitation and approached, passing by her and into the apartment as Amelia’s heart hammered in her chest.

Loki kept to himself, proceeding near the sofa but choosing not to sit, as Amelia advanced towards the small dining table where an empty vase was positioned - one that yearned so desperately to be filled with an aromatic sprig of beautiful blooms. She placed the bouquet in the decorative receptacle, promising to give them more attention later, and took a deep breath before facing Loki.

“I’m sorry.”

Amelia’s lips parted as she watched Loki closely, her eyes widening slightly as she perceived the two words that drifted so simply from his mouth; his face was somewhat distant, his gaze fastened so tightly on her that Amelia suspected he had tapped in to his natural aptitude for disguising his true feelings, and that his mind was not so calm as he outwardly appeared.

She waited, and Loki subsequently allowed another few words to spill from his lips.

“I am sorry I took your brother’s life, and caused you so much grief and heartbreak”, he said, but paired with cold eye contact, Amelia could not feel the legitimacy of his words, and her eyebrows drew together with a twinge of sorrow as she wondered whether this man would ever learn to express regret in a way that would be positively received.

At her silence, Loki visibly swallowed, “I am sorry… that I deceived you… lied to you, and tried to push you away instead of giving you the apology you deserved”, he looked a little lost, unsure of what precisely to say, and for that reason Amelia could tell that he was truly  _ trying. _

“I’m sorry I hurt you”, Loki finished, flexing his fingers at his sides distractedly.

Amelia watched him grow increasingly agitated by her continued quietness, feeling that the longer she refused to acknowledge his words, the more he would ascertain that his apology was subpar at best.

“I saw my brother last night”, Amelia finally spoke, scrutinising the man before her as Loki raised his head a little, his face shrouded in curiosity, “I got drunk and passed out on the couch, and awoke in the night to find Aaron sitting across from me. I had an enlightening conversation with him… but you already knew that, didn’t you?”

Loki’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion and he lightly shook his head.

“He told me it was happening in my head, as I expected”, Amelia continued.

“...sounds like an interesting dream”, Loki remarked, intertwining his fingers as he began to fidget with them, dragging his fingernails against his palm idly.

“Except it wasn’t a dream. When I woke up, I was wrapped in a blanket and had a glass of water by my side. Not my doing”, she said, and narrowed her gaze on him, “I think you know what I’m getting at.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about”, Loki stated bluntly, holding his head up, looking ever so slightly affronted as he asserted that he had no knowledge of her implications.

_ “Of course it’s happening inside your head, but why on Earth should that mean it is not real?”  _ she parroted her brother’s words from last night, “Do those words sound familiar to you at all?”

Loki shook his head, maintaining that her words did nothing but perplex him.

“It’s from the Harry Potter books”, Amelia answered, matching the fixed look he was giving her, “Does that jog your memory?”

Loki looked down at his restless fingers, “...from the final book. Albus Dumbledore delivers that line, I believe”, he answered with a shrug of his shoulders, nonchalant and poised, “I do not see what this has to do with anything.”

Amelia crossed her arms, taking a stance that her mother had often posed long ago, whenever she was caught with her hand stuck in the cookie jar, and attempted to appear offhanded, “Well, you see, my brother never read the Harry Potter books, nor did he watch the movies. He had no interest in it, and loved to hate it. There’s no possible way he would’ve known that line”, she explained, eyeing Loki with transparent inference, “But  _ you _ know that line.”

Loki cocked his head, clearly very ready to rebuff the implicit accusation, and his lips fell open to deny he had any part in Amelia’s apparent nocturnal vision - and his mouth hung open for an extended moment, before slowly closing again when he realised that the worst thing he could do right then would be to lie.

He took an audible breath, eyes falling to his twitchy fingers, “I didn’t- I wasn’t…” he stammered, “My intention was not-”

Amelia’s expression softened only slightly as Loki seemed to struggle to articulate himself - it seemed even his famed Silvertongue could fail him in the correct circumstances.

Loki licked his lips to expel the dryness of them, “I came last night, to bring the flowers and apologise. You did not answer the door and I thought… I was worried that-” his eyes darted between Amelia’s face and his hands, “...so I came in and found you… as you were. I wanted only to help, so I took his form. I thought everything would sound better coming from him.” 

His teeth were ground tightly together, jaw clenched densely as he clarified his reasoning; Amelia tilted her head, observing his taut manner, and all she saw in his eyes was accumulating self-condemnation. 

She’d played over the incident in her head several times that day, previously drawing the conclusion that Loki’s intentions had not been wicked in the slightest. He’d meant only to help heal her broken mind, remaining impartial as he assumed the appearance of her brother, telling her what she absolutely  _ needed  _ to hear. He did not attempt to manipulate her at all, did not try to persuade her that forgiveness was the way to go,  _ did not take advantage of his manifestation,  _ and although the given advice hadn’t truly come from Aaron, Amelia firmly believed that Loki’s words had been reminiscent of what her brother would have told her, had he really been there.

“Thank you”, Amelia whispered, fighting tears once again, and Loki looked at her with surprise - eyebrows raised, lips parted - and blinked rapidly for a moment.

“You do not think me more of a monster?” he questioned with incredulity, and Amelia felt her heart fracture at the bitter crack in his voice,  _ because a monster is what he believed himself to be. _

“Oh, Loki”, Amelia breathed, pressing her lips together narrowly, “I watched you save a child from dangerous people, held her protectively as she slept soundly, and even returned her stuffed toy when she dropped it - they weren’t the actions of a monster, and neither was giving me one last chance to talk to my brother.”

She may have imagined it, but Amelia thought she saw Loki’s lip quiver.

“But I… made you think I was your brother- deceived you, and you weren’t supposed to know, I wasn’t going to tell you- I was just going to lie to you,  _ again-” _ Loki sounded so self-critical of his actions, as though he knew it was, on some degree, a breach of privacy and obvious exploitation.

“Then why did you do it?”

“What?”

“Tell me  _ why  _ you did it, Loki”, Amelia said calmly.

Loki’s eyes twitched with uncertainty, before his expression evened out, “Because, I…” Amelia held her breath as Loki faltered, his mouth opening and closing a few times in succession, “...because I  _ care  _ about you, deeply.”

A small, diffident smile pulled at Amelia’s lips in response to his confession, but she quickly pushed it from her face - he may have revealed a heartfelt admission, but that wouldn’t make up for his previously lacklustre apology.

“I want to believe that”, Amelia told him, pursing her lips, “I really do.”

Loki was quiet, clearly mulling something over in his head, because Amelia could see the cogs turning behind his eyes, and the flicker of apprehension that seemed to take hold of him; he took a tentative step towards her, barely lessening the distance between them at all, and Amelia swallowed thickly around the bubble of sentiment in her throat when she noticed, from the angle of which the light hit him, that his eyes had grown slick with unshed tears.

She had never seen his face so  _ exposed  _ as it was in that moment.

“I am sorry”, he spoke, and it was an almost inaudible utterance, “I am sorry, Amelia,  _ I am so sorry.”  _ Suddenly, there were waves of emotion on his face where there had been none before - the metaphorical mask around his mind lowered, revealing all the pent-up remorse and sorrow and shame that he had once tried so hard to rid himself of.

“If I could go back and change everything,  _ I would.  _ I’m sorry I made you suffer loss and heartache, I’m sorry I caused you so much distress and torment and that I was the reason for your loneliness. Amelia, I want to do everything -  _ anything  _ \- to make it right. Please, you must believe me.”

Amelia did not realise she had started crying again until Loki took another, more bold step towards her and lifted his hands, cupping her face to brush away her tears with his thumbs.

She sniffed, blinking her red-rimmed eyes, “I believe you.”

The edge in Loki’s eyes alleviated, and his digits continued to caress her cheeks even after her tears had dissipated.

With great ambivalence, Loki gazed at her, eyes alight with hope, “Amelia, can you forgive me?”

“No.”

Loki’s face fell, the uncharacteristic optimism evaporating in an instant, to be replaced with rueful acceptance, because even he knew that acquiring absolution would not be so easy.

“Not  _ yet”,  _ Amelia added, because she could not stand to see Loki crumple in despair, and Loki’s pain was assuaged as he took her addition for what it was - a potential for reconciliation. 

Amelia stepped out of his gentle grasp, moving to the chest of drawers to retrieve something from within, and when she returned, she held in her hands the gloves she had gifted Loki the Christmas gone.

“Your hands are cold”, she stated, unable to prevent the amused curl of her lip at her own consistent remark, and offered them back to him.

He took them, pinching the expensive leather between his fingers fondly, and smiled an oddly sanguine smile, “Come live at Avengers Tower with me.” 

Amelia blinked. 

“I- I mean,  _ would you like  _ to come and live at Avengers Tower with me?” he remedied, a peppering of pink adorning his pale cheeks, “Because I know you are lonely, and perhaps, if we were closer  _ together,  _ we could-”

“Loki”, Amelia interrupted, “how about we just take things one step at a time?”  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If y'all seen IW then you should know that I am a TROOPER for managing to write this update while being in literal PIECES. My corpse managed to assemble enough of me to achieve my deadline date for this chapter JUST IN TIME, so I think that deserves a comment, don't you? ;)
> 
> Also, by the way, I am dead. Infinity War cornered me in a dark alley, stabbed me eighteen times in the chest, stole my wallet and left me sprawled on the floor, a bloody mess.
> 
> Warning: Comments may contain discussion of IW and possibly spoilers!


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Where are you taking me?”
> 
> “How many times will you ask the same question?”
> 
> “However many times it’ll take until I receive an answer”, Amelia retorted playfully, batting her eyelashes in a matter-of-fact manner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit, this is it. The final chapter of Lilies Say Sorry. I kinda teared up as I finished this, not gonna lie :') I hope you all enjoy this chapter!

_July 12th_

 

The days had grown warmer, and thus Loki could not continue to wear his suave, all-black suit without the risk of growing uncomfortably sweaty beneath the cashmere material; even in his Asgardian skin, he had always found warm rays of unceasing sunshine to be bothersome - he was immune to the cold, but the heat made him feel intolerably sticky in all the wrong places.

Not only that, but his typical black-suit disguise had become… unfortunately identifiable to the Midgardian populace - it was more than a little off-putting to suddenly have a finger pointed in his face with a resonating screech of _‘Oh my God, you’re Loki!’_ echoing throughout the entire area of whatever street he had chosen to walk down that day, and of course, the subsequent commotion of people that would ensue.

Not everybody had quite warmed up to him just yet, despite joining the Avengers on several missions since his initial cover was blown, but there were an annoying few who would always flock around him, fearless or stupid, to ask for an autograph - _what was with this Midgardian custom of desiring a scribble of his name on a piece of paper, object or body part?_ \- and he would sneer at them, snap until they drew back in alarm.

 _“You’ve got to stop doing that”,_ Tony Stark had told him, exasperation in his voice, _“We’re trying to convince people to give you a chance, Skrillex, so quit making things difficult.”_

Choosing not to acknowledge the crude nickname, Loki had merely riposted that he did not intend to act all sunshine and daisies for the sake of keeping the humans happy; if they were to accept him, it would be for who he naturally was - snark and all. He was already doing them a favour in assisting their favourite superheroes with mediocre assignments, and he wasn’t going to perform the part of a righteous, upstanding idol alongside his noble, heroic deeds.

They would take him as he was, or not at all. _Simple._

So there he was, leant against the brickwork outside of Amelia’s florist, awaiting the end of her shift while in a brand new, _foolproof_ disguise. It hadn’t been too difficult to devise a new attire in which to conceal his presence in plain sight - he had searched up the current mortal fashion trends for Summer wear on his phone and picked out a mix of clothes that were suitable enough for his liking. _Easy._

Loki waited several minutes before he finally spotted Amelia exiting the flower shop, weaving between the colourful displays, dressed in rather attractive floral-patterned sundress that reached just below her knees; he sighed at the vision she made - _she looked more and more beautiful every time he saw her_ \- and stepped away from the wall to greet her before she could unsuspectingly pass by him.

“Amelia”, he addressed as he stepped in front of her, and she looked up with curiosity, seemingly unable to recognise him for a few seconds before a wide, amused smile lit up her face.

“Loki?” She enquired softly, _“What_ are you wearing?”

Loki’s brow furrowed as he glanced down at his outfit - cropped, white trousers, black sneakers, a dark green linen shirt, with sunglasses and a black cap to keep the harsh rays from his eyes - he didn’t see anything wrong with his chosen ensemble.

“Have you-” Amelia blinked, sidestepping him to glance around his head, “-tied your hair up in a bun?”

“Yes, what’s your point?” Loki asked, his voice full of indignation at the incredulous tone coming from her mouth.

Amelia brushed a hand through her askew locks, an almost fond smile on her face, “It looks… nice”, she remarked innocently, looking him up and down, supposedly trying to subtly admire his temporary look, but there was nothing subtle about the way her eyes lingered on the skin of his unconcealed ankles and forearms, “-not sure about the hat, though.”

Loki snorted, adjusting the baseball cap irritatedly, “Neither am I.” While the hat helped, alongside the sunglasses, to keep the harsh sunlight from burning into his retinas from above, it certainly didn’t feel like the type of hallmark look he wanted to employ - but for the sake of passing himself off as a human, it would have to do for the moment.

“So…” Amelia began, subconsciously playing with the material of her dress down by her thigh, “to what do I owe this pleasure?” She was referring, of course, to his unforeseen presence outside of her workplace - usually he would let her know ahead of time if he planned to turn up and walk her home.

With a slightly coy smirk, Loki took his place beside her, offering his arm, which Amelia rested her hand upon, and motioned for them to continue walking, “I have something I want to show you”, he cryptically disclosed, and the woman raised an eyebrow at the sight of his coquettish expression.

“Okay, and what would that be?”

There was a hint of suspicion in Amelia’s slightly squinting eyes, but instead of pressing for an explanation, she gave a slight shrug of her shoulders and blindly allowed him to lead her wherever; something about the way she placed her unequivocal trust in him left a pleasant tingle in his chest.

“You look wonderful, by the way”, Loki spoke smoothly after a few steps, and caught the way Amelia’s lip curled into a bashful smile.

“Thank you”, she said with gratitude in her voice, “I, ah, thought I’d treat myself to a new dress. Saw this in a shop window yesterday and knew I had to have it.” It was white and flowy, decorated with summery colours - yellows, reds and oranges - all in the form of pretty blossoms, and it fit around her body so perfectly.

“It suits you well.”

Loki enjoyed the way Amelia’s cheeks grew pink at the compliment and the diffident way she bit her bottom lip to hide her shy beam; he would give her a million more flattering comments if it meant that look would never leave her face.

* * *

 “What are we doing at Avengers Tower?”

“I told you, I have something to show you.”

“Yeah, but _what_ do you have to show me?”

“Patience, Amelia.”

Amelia pouted, pinning Loki with an overly vigilant gaze, trying to glean the reason behind the man dragging her all the way to the superhero headquarters after her long day of working; Loki smirked as he saw her attentive stare in his peripheral vision, knowing full well that her dubious leer would not last. Once Amelia saw what he had in store for her, the only expression to grace her face would be that of unbridled happiness, _he hoped._

As they entered the foyer of the grand building, Loki allowed his human masquerade to dissolve, superseded by a slightly more formal look of dark trousers and a plain shirt, the cap and sunglasses now absent from his head, with his hair having fallen back down, a few lightly-curled tresses tickling around his neck.

“Shame”, Amelia teased, “I totally dig the man-bun look.”

“The _what?”_

“Man-bun. That’s what it’s called.”

“Humans are ridiculous.”

Amelia giggled as they approached the elevator, brushing a hand through her messy hair, and her laughter brought a pleasant, fuzzy feeling to his chest; Loki stole a glance at her while her attention wandered, taking the opportunity to absorb her fetching appearance without the darkened lens of the sunglasses he’d been wearing dimming his view.

There was something about seeing her bathed in the light of the sun, with her legs and shoulders and arms on display, that brought him pleasure and delight; for most of the time he’d known her, she’d always bundled up from the cold weather or stayed in her drab apartment, away from fresh air and sunbeams, and with it, an instilled sense of woe had been present - as if, despite her often vivid and vibrant wardrobe, she was living in a world of grayscale with the sombreness of her hardships hanging heavy above her head.

But now, things seemed lighter. A deep weighted pain had been lifted and Amelia had grown bolder, less reticent, and _happier._ Loki could see that it truly showed, and for that he was entirely grateful. She still had bad days, of course, because depression and grief was not amended overnight, but Loki saw something bright in her future, and he hoped at the very least that he could be a part of it.

He’d spent too long in the dark. He craved the warm glow that Amelia appeared to radiate.

Loki realised his thoughts had taken him away from reality when Amelia’s lips moved and he didn’t quite catch what she had said; at some point they’d stepped into the elevator and he’d automatically pushed the button without really acknowledging it.

“Hm?” he blinked with a vacant stare, prompting Amelia to repeat what she had just told him.

“I said-” she began, eyebrow cocked at his oddly absent demeanour, “You should get your hair all done up like Daenerys Targaryen, all majestic with braids and whatnot.”

Loki blinked, picturing the image in his mind with amusement, he’d never been too obsessed with making his hair look resplendent in plaits and interweaves as much as he preferred it to simply be presentable - _that was more Thor’s area of expertise, anyway, which explained the reason the oaf had acted so dramatic and mournful when the Grandmaster had ordered his precious, blond locks to be shorn_ \- which was why he, more often than not, straightened it, neat and unembellished.

Incidentally, Amelia misinterpreted his thoughtful expression as one of uncertainty.

“Daenerys Targaryen is a character from a book series-”

“I know who Daenerys Targaryen is”, Loki interjected with a smirk, for he had long since caught up with the most recent novel in the selection and grown frustrated when he discovered that the series had not yet been finished, “I was merely trying to picture myself donning such an… artistic hairstyle.”

Amelia seemed pleased that Loki had taken the initiative to read some Midgardian fiction of his own accord, “You’d look good with intricate plaits, I think.” Loki would be lying if he said he didn’t feel a touch of delight at Amelia’s praising words, spoken with such a saccharine and honest tone that charmed him to the core.

He couldn’t help but stare at her again, taking in every detail of her face with yearning in his soul; everything about her, from the array of freckles peppering her cheeks to the little dimples either side of her mouth - and _oh, her mouth_ \- he wanted so keenly to capture her lips and steal a kiss, but they had mutually agreed to take things slow, and Loki didn’t want to scare her off by taking any firm steps in their relationship too quickly. He had resolved in his mind that he would let Amelia come to him and initiate any sort of intimacy, that way it would be obvious that she was ready to take said steps.

But it had been almost four months, and it was getting to be so _difficult._

The elevator reached one of the upper floors and they stepped out into the corridor, Amelia still trailing curiously after Loki with no idea what to expect, but she knew the layout of the building well enough to know that they had passed community level of the headquarters where the Avengers would hang out when they weren’t busy going on missions or working in the lab or sparring in the training room.

“Where are you taking me?”

“How many times will you ask the same question?”

“However many times it’ll take until I receive an answer”, Amelia retorted playfully, batting her eyelashes in a matter-of-fact manner.

“You’ll receive an answer when I show you the surprise”, said Loki, before he narrowed his eyes slightly, “Your capacity to accept and tolerate suspense is somewhat nonexistent, isn’t it?”

Amelia smirked, “You’re just getting that now?” Loki exhaled a puff of amusement as he lead the impatient woman onward and she hummed at his continued refusal to explain what all of this was about. Inhaling comically, Amelia spoke, “I smell _mischief_ in the air.”

Loki chuckled, biting his tongue between his teeth, “Only the good kind of mischief, darling, I assure you.”

They rounded a corner, climbed a few steps and came to a short hallway with just one door at the end; Amelia tilted her head as she observed the sign above the door that read _‘no unauthorised personnel beyond this point.’_

“Are we allowed to go through this door?” Amelia enquired, pointing up to the red warning sign as they came to a stop before it.

“Stark doesn’t need this area anymore. He granted me permission to use it”, Loki affirmed, and it was the truth - because he needed an open space for this _project_ he had been working on and he did not want the billionaire to intercede and ruin his plans, thus he received consent from the CEO himself and warned promptly warned Stark not to trespass on what Loki now deemed as _his_ sector of Avengers Tower.

“Okay”, Amelia licked her lips in anticipation, a bright grin on her face, “Show me this big, secretive surprise!”

Loki smirked, typing the passcode into the keypad, which then beeped, signalling the door was unlocked, then he paused and turned back to the woman, an honest and open look on his face that elicited the furrow in Amelia’s eyebrows.

“I just want to… _preface_ this by saying that this isn’t a desperate attempt to win you back or anything like that…” Loki felt, rather annoyingly, that his cheeks grew warm as Amelia blinked her questioning eyes at him, “I’m not doing this purely with the belief that it will earn me your veritable forgiveness - I just wanted to do something for you… to make you happy.”

A look of stunned appreciation crossed Amelia’s face in the form of an open-mouthed smile, and she nodded wordlessly, encouraging Loki to continue.

“Also…” Loki said, “You need to close your eyes.”

Amelia squinted with a touch of suspicion in her honey-brown eyes, but closed them as she was asked.

“Cover your eyes completely, I don’t want you to peek.”

She did so, bringing her hands up over her glasses to obstruct her view should she feel the roguish desire to take a secretive peep before she was supposed to, and smiled with excitement at what Loki had planned.

“Do _not_ look until I say so, okay?” Loki warned, placing a hand on her upper arm by way of guiding her.

“Alright, I won’t look, I promise”, Amelia giggled, and Loki lead her through the door. She tensed slightly as the cool breeze of open air crept along her skin and faltered in her step.

“Are we on the roof?”

“No, we’re on a disused helicopter pad, three-quarters of the way up the building”, Loki answered, ignoring Amelia’s secondary utterance of _‘why?’_ in favour of persuading her to keep moving with an insistent prod against her back. Amelia walked on, having faith that Loki would not let her trip up, and she was navigated around various obstacles she could not see, until Loki instructed her to stop.

“Amelia”, Loki spoke, “You can open your eyes now.”

Amelia’s hands fell away from her face, eyes opening wide to take in the sight before her; her lips fell open in dumbfounded disbelief and she covered her mouth in astonishment, gaze darting back and forth over the scene.

The area that had once been a circular landing pad had been repurposed into a cosy little terrace; all the colours of the rainbow filled her vision as she took in the presence of hundreds of flowers sprouting from pots, decorative vases and specially crafted flower beds - there were even several wooden lattices dedicated to housing climbing flowers, the blooms of which germinated from stringy vines, all in an assembly of beautiful, bright hues.

Everything was artistically organised; the arrangement was very becoming of a homely, well-tended garden, and it took Amelia’s breath away. Amongst the sea of flowers was a wicker bench, adorned with brightly coloured cushions, making for a very pleasing perch that offered a view of not only the botanical ambience, but the flawless Manhattan skyline.

Encircling the bench was a bed of flowers, bordered by birch wood, and from the fertile soil grew a mix of dark red carnations and white clematis - a collection of blooms that grew in the shape of stars and gave off a distinct vanilla-like scent - and Amelia swallowed, looking back to Loki with dazed look.

“Loki, this is- this is _beautiful”,_ she stuttered, her mouth still hanging agape from the enchanting spectacle before her.

“It’s for you, Amelia”, Loki told her, a small smile gracing his lips, “Happy birthday.”

Amelia’s eyes grew wide, her lip quivering, “You- how did you know it was my birthday? I never told you that”, she squeaked, still in awe that she had received such an exquisite and thoughtful gift.

“I have my sources”, Loki responded, an all-knowing look on his face - in all truthfulness, he had gotten that little snippet of information from Stark. The man had access to a large database of information, Amelia’s date of birth included.

Her eyes flew back to the gracious, flower-embellished garden, her legs moving of their own accord towards the dainty wicker bench.

“Your favourite”, Loki gestured to the more centered bed of flowers as he trailed after her, “-dark red carnations, and my favourite”, he indicated the starbursts of white clematis, his lip curling almost rakishly as his smile deepened.

“I thought you didn’t have a favourite”, Amelia murmured, eyes glossy as the sweet, floral aroma filled her nose, and she bit her lip, trying to damper down the simmer of sentiment that was slowly taking hold of her body.

“Well”, Loki replied, “I do now.”

Amelia practically tackled him in a hug, flinging her arms around him, pressing her face to his shoulder as she fought the hot, wet tears that threatened to spill. Loki’s arms enclosed around her, holding the woman just as firmly, and breathed in the scent that rose from her scalp - the very same scent that exuded from the blooms he had planted alongside the carnations.

 _“Loki”,_ Amelia weeped, “I don’t know what to say!”

Loki’s hold tightened on the woman, “You needn’t say anything”, he told her, content to simply enjoy the feeling of being pressed against her once more; it had been too long since the last time they had shared this type of affection.

“Thank you”, Amelia whispered, pulling marginally away to look the man in the eye, _“Thank you.”_

Loki held her gaze, his stare intent and penetrating as he tried to convey all his thoughts and feelings to the woman without having to say them outloud; he was never good at expressing how he felt through words, never quite sure how to articulate his state of emotions - passion, devotion, yearning, lust, fondness, affection, _love_ \- but thankfully, as it turned out, he did not need to.

Amelia brushed away the wetness on her cheeks, her eyes filling with endearment and desire, and with two words, she sent Loki’s heart aflutter, “Kiss me.”

Loki breathed deeply, a subtle glee erupting in his chest at the command, and obliged, dipping his head down to press a smile to her lips; Amelia’s eyes slid shut as their mouths met and rolled against each other. It was soft and gentle, reminding him of the first time they partook in such an affectionate action, and he exhaled through his nose, his soul rife with enjoyment.

To finally kiss her, not as _James,_ but as _Loki,_ felt incredible - it was like their first kiss all over again.

By the Gods, Loki had missed this - after all this time of longing for the chance to taste her lips again, he finally had what he wanted, and there was a well defined tang of strawberry sweetness, likely from the flavour of her lip balm, that he had not forgotten.

When they divided, Amelia impishly nibbled on her lower lip, “You call that a kiss?”

Loki had barely a moment to react before Amelia’s hands cupped his cheeks and brought their faces together once more, this time sharing a kiss so passionate and blazing that it left them both breathless; she swallowed his amused laughter and rippled her tongue against his own. He caressed his fingers through her hair, massaging her scalp and bringing her closer all at once till he could both hear and feel the vibrations of the moans in the back of her throat.

Nothing could compare to the proprietorial pleasure of having Amelia back in his arms again, besotted by the tingling sensations of their mouths moving together, interconnecting in a way that felt so right - _just as it should be._

They parted when the requirement for breath became too immense, and sunk against each other, content to be close, lazing in each other’s embrace; the sun had set low in the sky and the Summer air was growing steadily cooler, but warmth still engulfed them in their little bubble of intimacy.

Amelia breathed a sigh. “How do you feel about going on a date?”

“A date?”

“Yes, it’s a thing two people do when they like each other.”

“I know what a date is.”

“Well, what do you think? Dinner and a movie?” Amelia suggested, a flicker of hope in her eyes that Loki would have to be a fool to say no to.

“Alright”, Loki agreed, quickly warming to the idea, “What about tomorrow, at noon?” He didn’t have an overwhelming urge to sit in a movie theatre for over two hours, but _apparently_ it was a sort of Midgardian tradition to take the person you’re courting out to see a film, and if it was what Amelia wanted, he would endure.

“Ah, mm”, Amelia hummed, looking sheepish all of a sudden, and Loki frowned, eyeing the flush of her cheeks, “I’m ah- I’m free after one o’clock, if that’s okay?”

Loki cocked his head, blinking a few times, a sudden wariness drawing a knit in his eyebrows at Amelia’s abrupt display of bashfulness, “Why?”

Amelia disengaged her arms from around his torso and reservedly smoothed out the material of her sundress, “I, uh, I have a therapy appointment, that’s all.”

Loki’s face softened and he nodded in acknowledgement, knowing Amelia had spoken about the possibility of seeing a therapist the last couple months; he yielded an irrational edge of rue at the thought, however, because he also knew that he was predominantly the reason that she needed to see a therapist in the first place.

“Hey”, Amelia said, bringing her hand up to brush a strand of hair behind Loki’s ear, “It’s all good.” She offered a subdued smile and Loki caught her wrist before it fell again, dipping his head to brush his lips against her knuckles in a chaste show of affection.

“One o’clock is fine”, he assented, before relenting to the desire to press his lips to her forehead, and continue to show her just how much he cherished her, without the use of words.

* * *

 Several weeks later…

* * *

 

Loki finished brushing his teeth, spitting the froth of the toothpaste into the sink before rinsing his mouth with water; he dried the moisture from his lips and stared hard at his reflection in the bathroom mirror.

Tired eyes stared back at his pale face, and though others could not easily determine the weary exhaustion in his gaze, Loki could see with pristine clarity that the green hue of his irises were a little more dull than they once were.

The nightmares had yet to cease, but perhaps tonight would be different, because Amelia had finally acceded to his request, and chosen that very day to move into the Avengers Tower permanently; Loki hoped it would do him well to feel the presence of her body by his side, that perhaps Amelia’s consistent warmth pressed against him would remind his unconscious mind that he was not alone, that Amelia was right there should he need her.

He inhaled and exhaled, and left the bathroom that joined with his bedroom - _his and Amelia’s bedroom now_ \- to find Amelia lounging on one side of the bed, already tucked beneath the covers with a sleepy smile on her face.

“Your bed is so comfortable”, she sighed pleasantly, sinking her head deep into the pillow.

“Our bed”, Loki corrected with a smirk, “-and of course it is. I am a prince, after all, that warrants only the comfiest of mattresses.”

Amelia blinked, “You’re a prince?”

Loki tilted his head, pinning the woman with a vacuous stare as he sat on the edge of the bed beside her, “You really didn’t know that?”

Amelia seemed to find the little tidbit of information to be rather amusing, evident from the way she quickly began to snicker, the corners of her eyes wrinkling as she grinned, “You never told me, _your majesty!”_

“Your _highness”,_ Loki corrected, “You would address my brother as ‘your majesty’, for he is the King of Asgard, not I.”

Amelia paused at the stern look on Loki’s face, “Do I actually have to do that?”

Loki rolled his eyes, a smile breaking out on his face, “No, of course not. He doesn’t care how you address him.”

“Oh, okay, good, because I don’t want to be the one to offend royalty - especially when that royalty can summon lightning from his fingertips”, Amelia bit her tongue to hide another grin and Loki snorted, shaking his head in a playfully wearisome gesture.

Amelia patted the comforter to her left, “Now get into bed, I want to snuggle”, she ordered.

Loki’s eyes darted to her hand on the bed, and back to her face. He shook his head, tapping the mattress below him, “No, this is my side.”

“I like being this side, though”, she countered with a pout, batting her eyelids the way she always did when she knew it would help her get her way.

But that wouldn’t work this time.

“No”, Loki reiterated, a touch of asperity to his voice,  _“this is my side.”_ His eyebrows furrowed, mouth pulled into a frown, and Amelia’s eyes seemed to twitch as she realised Loki was far from a jesting mood.

“Alright, alright. Jeez. Whatever you say, your highness”, she teased, shuffling across the bed below the covers with an overly pronounced pout on her lips.

Loki said nothing in response to her mumbled quip, and quickly took his place beside her below the bed covers, but not before casting a grim glance to the bedside table down beside him - the one that secreted the phosphorescent Tesseract cube, and by extension, _the space stone._

He would not allow Amelia to sleep even an inch closer to that accursed object than she had to, if he could help it; it was his secret - his burden to bear, and he would keep the woman he loved as far away from it as possible.

With that, Loki turned his attention to Amelia - delivering a sweet goodnight-kiss to her lips before spooning up against her back, burying his nose in her hair - and fell asleep to the soft scent of vanilla.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Think of that last part as being comparable to the after-credits scene of a Marvel movie ;)
> 
> While this is the end of Lilies Say Sorry, it is NOT THE END of Amelia and Loki! Be sure to subscribe to me or the series "The Language of Flowers" to be alerted when I post the beginning of the sequel - which is gonna be heavily tied to Infinity War, except I reverse all the horrible shit that happened in it and create a slightly different angsty setting WITH THE PROMISE that things will turn out fine :)
> 
> I honestly cannot thank you all enough. Your comments and kudos have kept me motivated throughout this entire story and without all of your input and kind words, I never would've finished it, so once again - thank you so much everyone, and I hope you join me for the sequel ;)


End file.
